Morning's First Light
by FifteenFathomsCounting
Summary: Who is the mysterious figure who happens to be travelling through Sherwood Forest? What will happen when she stumbles across a group of men she shouldn't really be associated with?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I have been secretly working on this for a while. A few months ago, I had a very vivid dream involving a strange newcomer to the gang. Yes, this is an O/C story and like I said on my profile, no idea of who the love interest is going to be so I will be writing several scenes into this story with each of the main lads (Robin, Will, Allan and there could be some possible Much action, Charlotte ;P ) I'm sorry for the delay and I hope you'll all be as faithful with your reviewing as you are with Tricks That Once Fooled Me. This story is mainly being written for Charlotte, seeing as she was the one who told me to write it up instead of spending the entire lesson telling her about my dream xD

Enjoy, Folks!

Oh and don't forget, **PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE** pass the link on to all of your friends, 'cause I really want as many people reviewing my stories as possible :) and don't forget to visit my Quizilla account too... Full details on my profile. Inabit guys! x

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**Morning's First Light**

_Lay down, be still  
Don't worry talk they will  
I'll be loving you until  
Morning's first light  
Breaks tomorrow  
I'll take care of you tonight_

We The Kings - Secret Valentine

The swallow is a remarkable bird. It is incredibly graceful when in flight, whilst also being capable of reaching high speeds and eating in the air. It has beautiful black plumage and roosts in treetops. Its song is likened to a liquid warble and is a welcome sound among travellers, peasants, nobles and outlaws alike.

This particular Swallow however, walked briskly along the forest floor, looking about her nervously and grasped the hilt of her sword whenever she heard a leaf fall or a twig crack. She wrapped her cloak about her more securely and pulled up her hood, making sure to obscure her face by pulling up a scarf that had been wrapped around her neck and pushed under her cloak. A quiver upon her back contained a meagre amount of arrows. They stood up straight and true, topped with dark feathers that at different angles had a blue tint to them. Wrapped under her quiver, a thin, ragged blanket lay, rolled up tightly and fastened safely out of the way.

The wind blew gently, not enough to cause unease but enough to cause a calming _swoosh swoosh, _sound as it blew through the leaves of the trees lining the thin pathway through the forest. The ground had been worn thin by foot after foot pressing down upon it and compressing it until the soil had begun to show through in spots. It seemed odd, tiny spots of brown sticking out in a long strip of green.

So far, the girl had encountered no one on her travels. She had waited until morning's first light and travelled cross-country for as long as she could without disturbing anyone. As she had neared Loughborough, she had been weak with hunger and had settled down on the grass verge to eat the bread that she had packed. A quite young-looking peasant had passed by, driving a cart with a sack of potatoes and a pair of chickens destined for a roasting. He had halted his giant Draught horse, smiled shyly

and had offered her a lift to the outskirts of Sherwood Forest. When she had enquired to the breed, knowing enough about horses to know that it was not the typical English Shire, Suffolk Punch or Clydesdale, he had replied that he was a new breed of horse that his master had brought over from a distant country.

"Theyms' called a _Persh…Persheron_." He had said, with great difficulty pronouncing the name.

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(**A/N**: The Percheron, as it is known, is a French breed and so as many Peasants would have no idea how it would be spelt. He is obviously just saying the name of the breed the way his master had pronounced it. Of course, this breed probably wasn't even bred the same way as the modern ones but I wanted the horse to be a little different to the normal draught horses which would have been used at that time. For none horsey people, just imagine big hairy grey Draught Horses ;P)

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She had smiled and nodded, smiling a little as the he chattered on, oblivious to her ignorance of the breed. Once they had reached the vast expanse of tall dark trees, much of the forest taken up by the large trunks of Fir trees and the common English Oak tree, she had gracefully stepped down from the rickety hay cart and waved goodbye as the peasant made his way on to market.

She made her way along the track slowly, keeping her eyes peeled and her wits about her. She had heard rumours of outlaws ambushing anyone and everyone passing along their 'territory'. Although she was slightly alarmed about being attacked by a group of ragged wild men, she deduced that it was _much_ better than being trapped back at her home.

The only thing of value she had about her self was a bag of coins, intended to fuel her need for food. She looked down at her sword, a one and a half handed, double-sided blade, fairly simply designed, with no ornate carvings about the hilt like her fathers. At least it wasn't as valuable and wouldn't draw attention upon her. As long as she kept her disguise up, she wouldn't be stopped on her travels. It wouldn't be strange to see a young man travelling alone, whilst carrying weapons as a way of protecting himself.

Her bow was a re curve bow, made of yew and although rather boring from a distance, it had an ornately carved handle, Her father had commissioned the village bowyer to make it for her cousin, as a gift for when he returned from the Crusades. When the news had come, she was already preparing to escape and so took the chance to leave with more protection than a measly dagger and a blunt sword. Of course, before she had left, she had sharpened her sword so that it would be able to kill anyone who stood in her path. Although she was prepared to kill if her life depended on it, she hadn't yet had the chance to do so and hoped she never would.

The forest was extremely large and spread over miles and miles of English countryside. It was inhabited by a variety of woodland animals, from tiny sparrows and chattering squirrels to foraging badgers and foxes and multitudes of deer. It was a well-known fact that to kill one of the kings deer was a punishable offence, but the expensive taxes and lack of food meant that many people ignored the rule and set out to poach enough meat to feed their family for a night. If caught, an offender would lose a hand. Despite the obvious cruelty of the punishment and the way it ruins many people's livelihoods by making them cripples, it also renders them almost entirely useless at doing their job, thus losing them what little income they have. It was a harsh life in England, but it was one they have to struggle through with little or no help at all.

High above her head, a squirrel chattered in alarm and her head was showered with tiny droplets of that morning's dew, as it leaped from branch to branch in its escape for safety. A crow cawed as it flew over the treetops and the forest seemed to echo as another answered it's call.

As she looked up to the sky, shading her eyes with her hand, to protect them from the glare of the sun, she became aware of quickly approaching footsteps. It sounded like someone running. Someone running for their life. She looked back down the footpath, and, noticing the loud rumble of approaching horses, ran off the track and prepared to hide. Making as little sound as possible, she ran across the leaves that had fluttered down from the treetops and hit behind the thick trunk of an old oak tree. It was far enough off of the track she was on for them to pass on by without them noticing her, but it was close enough for her to be able to see what was happening and for her to carry on her journey without losing any time.

She crouched silently, waiting for them to pass but as the rumbling got louder, and it appeared that there were maybe six or seven horses at a flat out gallop tailing a young man as it appeared that their quarry was able to run fast enough to stay ahead of the horses and able to run for long distances. Somewhere nearby, a bird called and another answered. Feeling uneasy, she grasped the hilt of her sword, just as someone placed their hand around her mouth and placed a dagger to her throat. They pulled her backwards through a holly bush and motioned for her to be silent before releasing her. She pulled her arm back from the young man angrily and unsheathed her dagger, pointing it straight at him.

"What d'you want?" She asked, imitating the gruff voice of a young male.

"All right! There's no need for that!" He exclaimed indignantly. "I was only trying to save your neck!" The rumbling increased in both volume and speed. "Now, if you value your life, I suggest you keep quiet and stay as close to the ground as possible, lad." He whispered quickly before crouching to the ground and unsheathing his sword. She copied him and peered out of the bush to the pathway in front of them. A sudden movement, about ten metres to her left, alerted her to the presence of two or three men, two of which were hiding behind various trees; one was on each side of the path. The last had moved so that he was about ten metres to her right and was now stood in front of another holly bush.

The man pelted through the trees, panting and looking behind him as he ran as fast as he could. The horses were gaining on him slightly, he could tell that, but he had to know how much further he could run before getting caught. At the rate he was running, he might just make it. He carried a wooden staff in his right hand, one adorned with a metal ball covered in hundreds of little spikes, perfect for close combat. His arms, moving forwards and backwards in an effort to make him gain just a little bit more momentum, were covered in a simple white shirt, which in turn, was covered by a green tunic to match the green hat covering his slightly long sandy hair.

He ran for another hundred metres, until he reached his goal. A man stood in the middle of the path and winked as he ran past him and slowed to a halt to catch his breath. They had less than three seconds until the fight began but he needed to be ready.

As she lay in wait, she had examined the man to her right. He was stood in front of the holly bush, with his hands on his hips. His sleeves were pale green and his tunic was the colour of tree bark. As the man had ran past him, he had winked as if to say 'Good Job!' and then her heart had leaped as a row of horses came cantering around the corner after him. The men riding them were adorned in the colours yellow and black. Surely they were going to ride over this man and kill him! Was he crazy? Then in a sudden glint of sunshine through the treetops, she noticed a thin piece of wire strung between two trees, so that it crossed the path. She smiled and got ready to attack; she had worked out most of their plan and could tell it was going to work.

The first two horses ploughed past the wire and their riders were thrown from their backs in quite a comical way before they hit the floor with a sickening crunch. Ouch. Once they had fallen, the battle was initiated. The men ran out from their hiding places, and each choosing a victim, set about unseating them from their horse. One man, wearing a dirty beige hat on his head ran out from behind a tree on the opposite side of the path, and sliced through the air at the rider with his sword. A shield he carried in his left hand was ornately decorated in a green Celtic design. As the rider noticed him out of the corner of his eye, he pulled sharply on the reins of his horse, the horse veered sharply and turned in a half circle before slipping on the floor and falling. As the dark bay toppled to the ground, his rider soon followed suit after losing his balance.

The man who had 'saved her neck' ran up to a chestnut horse nearby and grabbed his rider by the knee and arm and helped him 'dismount' albeit involuntary. His grey-sleeved arms reached out to grab the reins of the horse as his rider hit the floor in order to prevent him from bolting.

A grey horse reared up off the ground, amid the confusion and shouts of the men. As it's front hooves left the forest floor, a young black haired man, wielding an axe, and wearing a bright orange shirt ran up behind the horse and pulled off its rider.

As the horse righted itself, Swallow noticed a soldier, sneaking up behind the young man who was struggling to keep hold of the horse's reins. He had his sword held loosely in one hand and was edging steadily closer, nearly close enough to attack him without him noticing. Running forward from her hiding place, she jumped in front of the man and parried the soldiers blow. She pulled her sword free from his, as they became locked together and then lunged forward and slashed at his stomach. He jumped back and parried her blow so she feinted right and cut his arm. Clutching it in pain, he stumbled away to bandage his wounds. The boy regained control of the horse and nodded his thanks as he mounted the horse.

A little further down the path, the man who had been chased by the soldiers had caught up with a horse, which had bolted after its rider had been flung from its back. Stepping in front of it, waving his arms and shouting "Whoa!" caused it to slow to a halt after realising there was no more danger.

As the men all mounted the horses they had commandeered from the soldiers, a man dressed in black appeared over the top of the hill, riding a black horse. He seemed in no hurry to follow the men, but instead seemed content to stand his horse by a tree and watch as they took down the wire. The men's leader, the one who had winked, looked up and grinned cheekily at the guy in black. He seemed to recognise the man as he laughed at him in an extremely mocking way.

Swallow stood alone by the side of the path as the men all began to canter past her. It was obvious that there weren't enough horses for them all to have one but after getting herself involved, it would have been nice to get a reward out of it. Sheathing her sword, she began to step forward, making her way back to the original path that she was on, but felt a hand grab her wrist. The hand pulled, hard, and she found herself flying up out of the air slightly. Grabbing blindly, she pulled herself into the only place available. Which happened to be the back of a bay horse being ridden by the young man with the brown tunic; the leader. Looking behind her, back at the man who was still sat motionless at the top of the hill, she could see the nasty smile he was shooting in their direction as the horse cantered down the track.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ROBIN HOOD OR ANY CHARACTERS EXCEPT FOR SWALLOW!  
**

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**Morning's First Light**

_Sex and White lies._

_Handcuffs and alibis_

_She lays her halo on the pillow where she sleeps,_

_Her heart beats, red wine._

_My toxic valentine._

All Time Low – Toxic Valentine

They rode for about ten minutes, weaving in and out of trees, leaving the path occasionally and sometimes returning to a path they had already ridden down. Swallow realised not only were they trying to shake off the soldiers in case they were trying to follow them, but they were also trying to make sure that she was confused and didn't know where they were going.

After their little journey, they came to a tiny clearing, just big enough to fit all five horses and their riders. They all dismounted and tied the horses to any plant strong enough to remain rooted to the ground, if one of the horses spooked. The man with a cream coloured hat fumbled with the reins as he was tying his horse to the branch of a tree. It stepped back and he had to start all over again as he coaxed the animal back towards the oak.

Meanwhile, the other men had all congratulated the man who had acted as bait, by slapping him on the back and sharing other manly gestures such as a warm shake of the hand and sharing a few jokes. Swallow stood to the side, hugging her cloak around her and whenever one of the men looked curiously back at her, would turn away and stroke the nose of the quiet chestnut gelding stood to the side of her.

Eventually, the man with dirty blonde hair scrambled over to the group of men and offered his hand to the man wearing the green hat. He made as if to shake it and then cruelly spun around at the last second. Laughing and joking around, the men seemed oblivious to the fact that they had upset the young man with the beige hat.

"Oh, very funny1" He exclaimed as he stalked away a few metres to stroke the neck of his horse. He rubbed his face before a small whimper echoed around the clearing.

The leader turned away from the laughing group for a moment and watched the steadily retreating back of his companion. Glancing back at the group, he took a step forward and addressed his friend.

"Much, do not be so easily wounded." He sighed as he chewed his lip thoughtfully.

The 'bait' didn't seem so bothered. "Hey, since it was my idea, I get to keep the nag, right?" this seemed to have caught the leaders attention as he turned back and exclaimed in mock outrage "Nag? This is a Destrier warhorse of the finest pedigree!" clapping the man on the back, he smiled and said "Of course, my friend! You deserve it!"

Another whimper could be heard from just beyond the horses.

"Oh you have it then, if you're going to cry about it!" the 'bait' snapped, pouting like a little child who'd been told off.

"I am _not_ crying!" The man named Much yelled, finally losing his patience and spinning around, shouting at them in a fury.

The leader stepped in, to prevent them from coming to blows "Much…" He warned. As the words left his mouth, he was interrupted by a full-blown shriek. And another in quick succession. The men followed the source of the crying until they came to a small clump of grass, where a small baby lay screaming with all its might. The young man who Swallow had saved from almost certain death, bent down nervously to pick it up. He held it gingerly, as if afraid it might jump up and bite him.

Much looked confused and disgusted at the same time. He took half a step forward and then stopped, as if that was as far as he would go. He craned his neck and said quietly, "What is it? Well, I know _what_ it is but… "

The young man in orange cut him off "It's a boy." The men all recoiled in shock, as they noticed how close the hoof marks on the ground were to the place where he'd been found. The man who had made Swallow hide in the bush, whistled and pointed out the obvious. "We rode straight through here, he could have been trampled!" In the meantime, the baby had carried on its wailing, which echoed around the clearing and scared away quite a few birds. The man holding the baby, wrapped its green velvet shawl around the child more securely, in an effort to keep it warm in the cold forest air. "This baby is cold. Its mother is long gone." He announced to no one in particular. The 'runner' winced in pain as the baby managed to scream at an extremely high pitch. "Can't you shut it up?" He moaned. Swallow instinctively took a step back. Even though she was in disguise, she had momentarily forgotten that and had expected them to hand the baby to her. Even though she hadn't had much experience with them, she knew that she absolutely despised babies.

Once again, the man who had 'saved her neck' stepped forward and muttering to his comrades "Here." He turned it upside down in one swift movement. The spectators gasped, Swallow included. He defended himself indignantly. "What? It's how you shut them up!" The baby gave a strangled sob and after a second of silence, began to wail again. The leader jumped forward and seized up the bundle, cradling it in his arms. The 'bait' seemed to make a decision that none of them were prepared for. Clapping his hands together, he said in an almost cheery way, "Right then, leave it here. Let's go!" Most of the group were horrified; Swallow included. She disliked babies, certainly, but she'd never leave a foundling in a forest. It would die, and she never wanted to be responsible for the death of someone she could save.

Much seemed as horrified as Swallow. "You can't just leave a baby!" he exclaimed in shock. "Well, what d'you want to do with it? We're outlaws! Not wet nurses!" he retorted sarcastically

As soon as the last word was uttered, Swallow became aware of several things. The first, she had made herself an acquaintance of a band of outlaws, ensuring that she would be sentenced to hang if caught by the soldiers; she needed to get away from these men; thirdly, the forest had suddenly become quiet again. The young man with the axes strapped to his belt marvelled at the sudden silence. He turned to his comrade and asked, "How did you do that?" They both looked down at the baby, silently gazing up at them whilst grasping his thumb with a tiny hand. "I think he likes me." He smirked slightly.

As they embraced the silence, the men all turned to the stranger amongst them. Stepping forward, they all introduced themselves. The leader, stepping carefully and trying hard not to disturb the baby, looked up and smiled warmly at her. His bright blue eyes peering out from behind a fringe of brown hair. He introduced himself quietly, in order to avoid waking up the baby who had begun to drop off to sleep.

"My name is Robin." He half whispered. "And these are my men." He nodded his head towards each man as he named them. The young dark haired man wearing an orange shirt was named Will, the man who had forced Swallow out of the intended path of the horses was named Allan and the man who had been chased for what must have been a long way through the forest went by the name of Roy. He still introduced the other man as Much, even though it was obvious that they had used his name in the previous conversation.

They each stepped forward and shook hands with her as they were introduced, apologising for not being able to exchange pleasantries earlier, because like Allan had joked "We _were_ a bit busy at the time!" They had joked, quietly laughing at the shocked looks of the soldiers as they were ambushed and Will had thanked Swallow for saving his life. "If you hadn't been on the ball like that," he had said, "I'd have been a goner…" He had admitted quietly as they stood to the side of the other men. Will like Swallow, preferred to watch from the sidelines rather than get involved. "So, anyway, we've all told you our names, what is yours?" He asked. Swallow looked around to see all the other men engaged in conversations of their own and so leant in to whisper her answer. Will looked confused "That's strange, Swallow is more of a girls name than a boys name."

Allan was still amazed at the infant's lucky escape. "Look at the amount of hoof prints here," he had exclaimed quietly "It's a miracle that baby's still alive!" Swallow had looked down and froze in shock. So, it seemed, had Robin. She stepped closer to him and hissed in his ear. He nodded and whispered "No noise. No movement." They obeyed instantly, understanding that their lives probably depended on it. "Look, at these hoof prints. They're _marked_. Gisbourne is not the fool he looks. He will track us." Swallow realised that Gisbourne must be the man in black; suddenly she understood the nasty smile he had been wearing as they rode off. He had planned this from the start.

They all drew their swords and listened carefully for any sign that they had company. "Not being funny, but shouldn't we be moving on? They could be coming already…" Allan said nervously, looking about him as he spoke the words everyone was thinking. Robin nodded once and they moved towards the horses silently. "You'd best ride with me, I don't think that horse could carry Robin, you and a baby." Will whispered. Swallow had nodded just as a voice had floated down from through the trees. "Why leave so soon? We could be here all ready."

Gisbourne rode his horse into view and it soon became clear he had brought reinforcements. Most soldiers were on foot but some were on horseback too. All had their swords drawn and ready. It was clear that the outlaws and Swallow were outnumbered.

"What do we do?" Much cried.

Swallow drew her sword and surveyed the advancing soldiers. They were definitely outnumbered and there was nothing they could do about that, but if they could get the upper hand, then maybe they had a chance. She looked towards Robin and then grimaced. Of course, the baby. With their leader unable to fight properly, the men would be a man down, but as Swallow looked around, she had an idea. They were on a hill, which could be of their advantage.

Meanwhile, Robin turned to Much and answered his panicked question. "What can we do?" He shrugged. "We do not believe in needlessly harming man or beast." Swallows' shoulders drooped, if they were against fighting, then they were done for. She couldn't take them _all_ down. She looked up as she heard the steely rasp of a sword being removed from its sheath, watching Robin as he said with a cheeky grin on his face "Vermin, on the other hand…"

He charged towards the men, who were steadily approaching up the hill towards them. The others soon followed. Ducking away out of sight, Swallow made her way towards the horses and untied them from the trees and bushes around the clearing. Whilst the men began to near the soldiers, she pulled down her scarf and put her fingers in her mouth. Blowing quickly, a piercing whistle echoed down the hill. The outlaws all halted their headlong charge and looked back up the hill. A stampede of horses came galloping down the hill with Swallow running after them, slapping them on the rumps with the flat side of her blade. The outlaws had only a few seconds to react, and all jumped out of the way of the animals. The soldiers weren't so lucky. The few who had made it to the foot of the hill were bowled over by the brute force of the horses and were trampled to unconsciousness.

Swallow ran up to the closest soldier and quickly disarmed him, clubbing him around the back of the head with the hilt of her sword; he quickly sank to the floor. Allan ran straight at a soldier wielding a broadsword and stabbed him the face with the end of his longbow. With a triumphant "Gotcha!" he left him on the floor clutching his head and moved on to the next soldier. Much surged forward, screaming a wild battle cry at a soldier, a combination of rage and terror, and dealt him a heavy blow to the helmet. He whooped with delight and moved on to his victim as the soldier sank to the forest floor. Will wrenched a soldier off of his horse, while Roy engaged in hand to hand combat in the undergrowth, trying to keep his feet moving and blindly detaching his pants from brambles, whilst he tried to disarm his foe was proving rather tricky, until he tripped over a rock on the floor. Roy saw his chance and threw all his weight towards his opponent. He fell backwards and cracked his head heavily upon a tree root. He did not get up again.

Across the clearing, Robin was enjoying himself immensely. As he slashed and parried away at a soldier, he began to mock him. "D'you mind? I was just getting the baby to sleep!" He neatly sidestepped the soldier as he charged at him, tripping him up and dealing him a nasty blow to the shoulder. The man dropped like a stone, taking Robin's sword with him. Momentarily free from battle, he took a moment to check on the baby. "All right there, little one?" Across the clearing from him, Swallow and Will exchanged shocked glances with each other. A soldier was creeping up behind him unawares, Robin stood talking to the happily gurgling infant as the man raised his sword. "Robin!" They both shouted, being too far away to stop him any other way. Robin turned around, but too late to retrieve his sword and disarm him. Banking on the soldiers gut reaction, he tossed the baby towards him shouting "Catch!" The man dropped his sword instantly, and opened his arms to catch the baby. Swallow jumped in and cracked him about the head. As the man crumpled to the floor, the baby began to cry. "Now, look!" Robin scolded. "We're going to have to start all over again."

Nearly all the soldiers were injured or unconscious now, but the danger wasn't over. Not by far now. The scowling man from earlier, the one who Robin had referred to as Gisbourne, had not gotten involved with the fight yet, but had instead sat silently watching from the shadows. Realising that it was a fiasco, he rode out from the trees and snarled at his men, furious. "Idiots. Get up."

He picked up his mace and whirled it around and around his head several times, before releasing it and letting it fly through the air to his target. Robin. Both Swallow and Roy saw it heading towards him at the same time. Running across the clearing at full speed, it seemed like they were moving in slow motion. They weren't going to make it. Roy reached him before her and dived on top of Robin, pushing him and the baby to the floor. Forgetting about the danger he'd put himself in. The mace clipped the back of his head and he yelled out in pain. Swallow reached him just as a pair of soldiers grabbed him. She shouted, and drew her sword, but too late. One grabbed Roy and dragged him onto a horse nearby. She smashed into the second soldier and stabbed him in a fury. He cried once and fell. He would not get up again.

Turning towards the man who had captured Roy, she growled and stepped forward. The man rolled his eyes as she stalked towards him and picked up the mace nearby. She stepped forward into a crouch and waited for him to make the first move. He took advantage of her pause and ruthlessly swung powerfully for her head. Luckily, she was ready and jumped to the side and swung for him. He dodged and swung himself up onto the horse, riding off with the captured Roy. Her anger even stronger than before, she spun around and stalked towards the man responsible. Whether he was an important man or not, he was responsible for a man's eventual death. She was furious and he would pay.

He grinned evilly as she stepped forwards, her sword held loosely in her right hand. Taking it up into both of her hands, she ran forward and slashed at the girth of his saddle. It broke instantly and the horse shot forward in fear. He slipped of sideways and she towered over him, ready to go in for the kill. Suddenly, she was aware of someone calling her name frantically. Their voice had an edge of panic and fear tinting it. She turned to look, only too late. The net flew over her. Kicking out furiously she tried to disentangle herself, but only succeeded in getting more and more caught up in the net. Gisbourne clambered up from the ground and trying to gain some composure, barked orders out to each of the surviving men. A kick to the head left Swallow dizzy and as her eyes began to close, she could see Will, Allan, Much and Robin all running back down the hill to the small group of remaining soldiers. As the horses moved out at a fast canter, leaving the outlaws behind, the darkness swallowed her and Swallow could see no more…


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: **The song is taken from J.R.R Tolkiens' The Two Towers. I'm not very good at writing songs and I felt that this was exactly what I was looking for, but I had to change one line "Nuts of chestnut brown" is my own creation, purely because the original words referred to Elves. Ahearn is the Celtic word for Horse or Horse-lord so i felt that it would be perfect to show a rare bloodline. Kind of like the Mearas in Lord Of The Rings!

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**Morning's First Light**

"_Yeah the haircut's hot,_

_But this has gotta stop._

_Good shoes won't save you this time!"_

Lostprophets – Can't Catch Tomorrow

The groom quickly stepped down from the cart. It was a terribly long journey from Scotland and all he wanted to do was have a decent meal and good nights sleep. He had driven non-stop through countryside and villages, to arrive at Nottingham in time.

The cart he had driven wasn't the typical hay cart, or a low backed cart used for carrying produce; instead it was a tall box, akin to the ones used to carry valuable possessions, or chests of money. It had two doors, which opened outwards and a tarpaulin roof; from a tiny gap in the wooden slats on the side, several pieces of straw stuck out.

He had halted the pair of carthorse, two bay Clydesdales, a breed whose origins lay in Scotland. The Sheriff had just exited the castle via the heavy wooden doors, his short grey hair standing out against the blackness of his clothes and the door behind him. He clapped his hands once and called out loudly with a touch of airiness, which suggested he didn't really care about what the young boy was doing there.

"Please, Sir," the lad mumbled, his eyes fixated upon the floor. "Sir William of Inverness, heard that you were in need of a Destrier and he has no use for this horse at Inverness Castle. He sends him to you in the hope that he can be of use to some one."

At a nod from the Sheriff, two soldiers stepped forward towards the cart and opened the doors. A small ramp was lowered from behind them and the lad disappeared into the box to fetch its occupant. With a thunder of hoofs, he pranced down the ramp and reared up into the evening sky and squealed out his frustration at being cooped up for so long.

The horse was stunning. His black coat shone like charcoal, and his mane was long and silky. Even though the cart he had been travelling in was dark and dirty, he was perfect.

The Sheriff stood silent, his hand rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully and the men stayed silent, in awe of the stallion. After a few moments of stroking the powerful horse's neck, and whispering a few words into his ear, the horse became calmer and the lad was able to offer the rope attached to his halter, to the Sheriff. The man took it, and looking at the stable lad once, dropped the rope for one of his men to pick up.

"His name is Adonis, and he is a son of Iberus." The groom said, eager to give the man details of the horse's pedigree. "His mother was Antares, and he is a descendent of the Ahearn lineage." The men stood around them gasped and muttered amongst themselves, as they acknowledged how valuable the horse was.

The Sheriff beckoned to a man nearby and he stepped forward, bearing a chest full of coins. Together, he and the groom lifted it onto the cart and did the same for the next two. Meanwhile the Sheriff had ordered for the horse to be bedded down for the night and had retired into the castle, muttering about how he had to deal with an outlaw or two.

* * *

She awoke to a splitting headache. She rubbed her head, feeling the pain shoot through her body as she moved into a better position. Blinking furiously, as her eyes tried to adjust to the lack of the light, she finally remembered what had happened. The fight, her capture and how she, along with Roy would be hung. She looked about the cold damp cell she was trapped in and discovered a small pile of mouldy straw and a hunk of dry bread. She folded her arms and sat, cross-legged in front of the iron bars of the cell.

A thump in the cell next door alerted her to Roy's whereabouts. It sounded as if he was taking quite a beating. His voice rasped out, dry with fatigue and thirst. "My name is Royston White. I fight for Robin Hood and King Richard." He cried out once, and Swallow imagined him doubled him over in pain, as someone beat him, in a vain effort to get him to answer properly.

A door to her left clanged and an old man stalked into the dungeon. He walked past her cell, merely glanced at her and then stepped into the cell next to hers. She heard him address whoever was inside there, "It would be wise, would it not, to break his jaw after he has talked, rather than before?" he mused, "Who his he?" There was a snapping sound, like someone ripping fabric or snapping string as a deep voice answered his question. "One of Locksley's associates, He raided my stables. Luckily, I have my horses shod with an identifiable mark, which allowed me to track… " He trailed off suddenly, as if the old man had held a hand up, like he'd become bored of his story.

There was a shuffling sound as he moved and then Swallow heard his voice again. "Talk." He commanded Roy and Swallow could hear a tint of venom carefully disguised in his almost emotionless voice. Roy replied in an almost monotone voice, the same words he'd been repeating for the entire time he'd been interrogated, Swallow guessed. From what she'd seen of him, she imagined him to be a very stubborn man and so could imagine him saying those very same words over and over for hours.

"I'll say no more." He said, after finishing his lines. Swallow almost laughed out loud as she heard him act so stubbornly in front of the two men. Swallow tensed her muscles; she was certain that she was about hear Roy being beaten to a bloody pulp. She was wrong. The man's voice floated through the air, sounding almost soothing.

"You've said enough. It must have been a difficult day for you." He said quietly. Swallow was confused; so was Roy.

"What?" he said, sounding alarmed.

"We let our friend here rest." The man said, sweeping quickly out of the dungeons, an attractive man wearing black hurrying after him. Swallow stood up to admire him, but quickly sat down, feeling repulsed, it was Gisbourne.

"What is going on here?" Roy called after them, confusion and panic clouding his voice as they walked away silently. Swallow listened in carefully on their conversation as they began to leave the dungeons. "Sheriff, he will not talk unless he is beaten, that I can assure you." Gisbourne urged. _So the old man was the sheriff._

He muttered something back to him as the heavy door swung shut, but Swallow only caught one word. _Relatives._

Settling down into the pile of straw, she closed her eyes and imagined herself back at her home. If only she had stayed there, she wouldn't be facing the gallows. True, she'd probably be trapped in the stifling dresses of a noble's daughter and be forced to marry a poncy know-it-all; a man she would never have chosen for herself. True, she would be banned from riding the fast horses belonging to her father, she'd be banned from archery and sword fighting but it would be so much better than suffocating to death.

Suddenly, without any warning, she found herself beginning to hum to along to a n unknown tune, then found herself lightly singing. Singing a song of hope where none could be found.

* * *

_In western lands beneath the Sun,_

_The flowers may rise in Spring,_

_The trees may bud, the waters run,_

_The merry finches sing._

_Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night_

_And swaying beeches bear,_

_Nuts of chestnut brown,_

_Amid their branching hair._

_Though here at journeys end I lie_

_In darkness buried deep,_

_Beyond all towers strong and high,_

_Beyond all mountains steep,_

_Above all shadows rides the Sun_

_And Stars forever dwell:_

_I will not say the Day is done,_

_Nor bid the Stars farewell._

_

* * *

_As she sung, she glanced about her, noticing that the side of the cell also had bars but one side had been blocked off with wooden planks. Bracing herself, she kicked hard at one of them. Luckily it was rotten partially and broke away and fell to the floor. She did so to three others and soon was able to see through into the next cell.

She finished her song, and instantly felt her spirits lifted.

Roy was sat on his pile of straw and looking straight at her. "You have a beautiful voice," He whispered, in awe. Realising her hood and scarf had been removed, along with her weapons, Swallow realised that he had no idea who she was.

"Thank you." She smiled. She offered her hand through the grating and introduced herself. "I'm Swallow." He shook her hand timidly, her small dainty hand lost in his giant hand. "My name is Roy," He croaked. She nodded, trying to act as if she hadn't met him before. "Listen, have you seen another lad in here?" He asked, seeming concerned. "I don't know what he looks like and I don't know what his name was, but he was with us when I was captured and I think he was too." Swallow smiled and shook her head slightly. "No, no one else was brought in." She looked at him.

"Why were you captured?" He asked her. "You don't look like someone who'd break the law." She laughed once, and answered his question as truthfully as possible. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Glancing around her, she decided it was safe to elaborate; besides he was the last person she'd be talking to, so she may as well talk to him as much. "I ran away from home. I couldn't stand being the daughter of a noble any more. It's all sewing and pressing flowers. You aren't allowed to ride any faster than a trot and eventually you are effectively sold off to a man who wants to marry you for the all wrong reasons." He grimaced sympathetically and gestured for her to carry on, and listened intently when she told him about how she had fallen in with a band of outlaws. "Then, they were involved in a fight. One of their men was captured and I was knocked out whilst trying to free him." He was looking at her in disbelief now. "So, it was _you_?" He asked, in shock.

"It was." She informed him. "I'm sorry I couldn't get you free before they brought you here." She whispered, "Maybe if I'd have been quicker, none of use would be hanging tomorrow." She finished quickly as the wooden door opened.

The serving girl hurried along the dimly lit corridor, the light of a burning torch illuminating the woven basket in her hands. It contained hard hunks of stale bread. Gisbourne stalked down the corridor in the opposite direction to her. She stopped abruptly as he passed and turned to watch him. "Guy?" She asked. Swallow realised that must be his first name and that Gisbourne must be his title. _Sir Guy of Gisbourne. _Although she was certain that she had never heard of a place called Gisbourne. It certainly wasn't in England. This Sir Guy seemed to be very cliché, a tall, dark, handsome stranger from a far away country. "You are back quickly," the serving girl whispered, tripping up over her words in her haste to get them out without anyone hearing. He paused and gave a quick grunt of agreement "Did he cry?" She whispered, panic stricken. Swallow and Roy both watched in disgust, as he turned quickly on his heel and marched off, giving no answer. She watched longingly after him and then stepped forward to shove a hunk of bread through the bars of the two prisoners cells.

Roy was the one who spoke first. "How can you smile at him?" he asked in disgust. She spoke softly "He has another side. One he cannot show." She said whilst looking down at the floor, as if doubting the very words she spoke. "You are wrong." He whispered, almost angrily, as if the words had deeply offended him. Swallow just rested her head against the cool iron of the cell bars, trying to soothe the burning sensation shooting through her temples. Her eyes closed as she heard the girl reply in a warning tone, "Be careful. If I had position, I would be his wife." Roy chuckled sarcastically, "He tells you that does he?" The girl looked up from the ground and stared him directly in the eye, "I am the mother of his baby." She answered coldly. Roy looked up at her, peering out of a blackened eye he shuffled closer to the door to his cell and lifted his shirt slightly, just high enough to show her the dark shape of a massive bruise starting to show upon his ribcage. "Look at what he can do: Keep your baby away from him." The girl bit her lip, obviously trying to ignore the point that he was getting across. "Shut up!" She cried, raising her voice "He is a good man! He has found a home for our baby, at the Abbey of Kirklees. That is not cheap! " She stormed away from the cells, tears streaming from her eyes.

* * *

The man crouched by the fire, carefully building up the small pile of kindling, the flames leaped around the small bundle of dried grass and licked at the edges of the dry twigs as the man placed them upon the steadily growing fire. He stepped back as the fire grew and he had placed a few small logs upon it, in an attempt to build it up and get some warmth. He looked up as the horseless men trudged solemnly towards the camp. They walked past him silently, not looking up to meet his questioning eyes. "John…" Robin looked up with pleading eyes as he grappled to find the right words. "They got Roy." Alan said, all at once. Much trudged past carrying the screaming baby and looked up at John as he passed, "The horses were marked. They tracked us." He tried to explain, but trailed off as John began to stare at the infant. "Oh, it's a baby." He said, showing the tall bulky man what was in his arms. John shot him a withering look and turned his back on him, as he carried on talking, oblivious. "John."

Robin said quietly "I am sorry." The tall man, with black hair and a black bushy bush, bent down to pick up a heavy wooden staff before kicking at the fire at saying slowly but with an air of command. "We _go_ to Nottingham."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thankyou Dom, for providing me with the missing word :P LOVEYOUUUUU! (Even though it was you who typed that :P) ps: I do actually love you :))))) and sorry for being mean to you ;]**

* * *

Morning's First Light

_I'll take these storms away, start a brand new story._

_I'll make it through each day, singing death or glory._

_Lord won't answer me; I won't let it bring me down. _

_And though these clouds are grey, that I'm living under._

_I know I'll be okay, whether rain or thunder,_

_I hear it calling me; I won't march into the sound._

_Oh! __Whoa!_

Lostprophets – Where We Belong

As she awoke for the second time that day, she blinked as the bright midday sunlight shone through the small window. It was crudely cut into the sandy yellow stone, large enough to allow substantial light through but small enough to keep people from escaping. Rolling onto her back, she studied the pattern of the stone above her head. It seemed like early afternoon; maybe only midday and the sun was blazing hot against her skin. From outside, she could hear the normal sounds of the castle courtyard: the noise of animals, cries of peasants begging for food in the marketplace and the shouts of the sheriff's men.

Looking to her left through the bars of her cell, she whispered urgently "Roy, Are you there?" _Silenc_e. Getting up and stumbling over to the bars, she gripped them tightly, her eyes darting frantically around his cell. It was empty. Sinking to the ground, she hit the wall in frustration. If he had gone, that meant that he had already been sent to the gallows and it wasn't that long until she would be too.

There was no use worrying about it anymore. Getting shakily to her feet, she walked over to the window and contemplated the height. She could certainly jump that high, and if she had enough strength, she could probably scramble up and hang on. The problem was getting through the window. There was no way she was thin enough to squeeze through. There must be another way to escape, one that she could access by using her wit.

* * *

The chestnut mare cantered towards the tree line. Once she came to a halt, Allan jumped from her back in one fluid motion. Instantly, the rest of the men surrounded him, awaiting his information. Robin stepped forward, holding the baby close to his body and spoke first.

"Well?" He demanded.

"Central courtyard. Portcullis. Both heavily manned, we can't get in that way." The men groaned and Robin spun away, gently rocking the infant as he began to wail again. "The east wall, where the builders are?" He enquired desperately. Allan shook his head and muttered out of the corner of his mouth "Teeming..."

Will murmured "We could try the south wall?" Robin sighed, throwing his head back in exasperation and closed his eyes in concentration. "Too high." Allan agreed and added his own opinion. "And even if we could get in, I've heard the new door to the dungeon's two foot thick!"

Will smiled very slightly, his mouth turning upwards a fraction; barely noticed by the other men. He stepped forward, eager to share with them. "Yeah I heard that too, but I also heard that Robert of York put it in!" The men turned to him, listening to this new piece of information. Confusion clouded their eyes when they didn't understand. Allan looked directly at him and shrugging his shoulders said "And?" Will looked at Robin and answered Allan's question. "Robert of York can't make a hinge to save his life! The lock side will be as strong as an ox, but the hinge side will be weak – especially with the weight of two foot of timber!" The men grinned at each other, jubilant that their rescue mission seemed almost possible. Robin handed the baby to Much, who looked at him with disgust when he started to cry again.

* * *

Swallow kicked in frustration at the iron bars around her cell. She needed to think. She needed a way out, and so far nothing had come to her. Kicking out again, she felt a jolt vibrate through her right foot, as her feet came into contact with a section of rotten wood. Grinning in satisfaction, she kicked again and again and again, stopping every second kick or so to test the doorframe. Bracing her feet against it, she finally succeeded in snapping through the post and sized up the gap it had left. Taking a deep breath and sucking in, she squeezed through the hole and escaped her prison and near death.

* * *

Roy lay slumped upon the cool floor of his cell. Every inch of his body burned with an unfathomable pain and agony ripped through his heart as he contemplated the end of everything. He shifted his body weight a little as his legs began to go numb as a result of lack of exercise.

At the far end of the dungeons, a bang echoed across the hall as a heavy wooden door banged against the damp wall, hitting the mildewed stone. Footsteps echoed and prisoners further down began to moan and groan, begging for food, for forgiveness, for release.

A jangle of keys signalled the jailers' presence, as he muttered his way past the cells, jeering at the few prisoners contained in them. He reached the wooden door to Roy's cell and leered at him as the door swung open. He was not alone.

Gisbourne stepped into the doorway, blocking out most of the light and casting an ugly shadow across Roy's face. He sneered menacingly and beckoned to Roy "Sherriff wants to see you." He grinned evilly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Morning's First Light**

"_She's fresh to death,_

_She'll be the death of you._

_Seduction leads to destruction"_

The Way We Talk – The Maine

The fact that he was now being dragged backwards through the castle by two guards, whose vice like grip was being focused on his armpits, pinching the skin painfully, didn't seem to faze him. In fact, he didn't really seem bothered by much; merely blinking as he was thrown bodily through the heavy oak doors and into the main hall. The sheriff was already waiting for him, feet resting nonchalantly upon a sturdy wooden table. Guy of Gisbourne was sat beside him, with his back to Roy, but casually stood up and turned to face him, with that smirk permanently stuck to his smug face. The sheriff looked up and finally addressed the outlaw, his voice thickening as he spoke "Ahhh, _Royston White, I fight f'r King an't Country_!" He mocked, speaking like a commoner, in an act of insolence as he ridiculed the man in front of him.

"Now, I have a little favour to ask of you..." The sheriff spoke, turning away from the outlaw and examining his hands, feigning disinterest. From within the folds of his black coat, he produced a bejewelled dagger. Showing it to Roy, he continued speaking. "I would be very much obliged if you could use this little trinket..." He gestured to the weapon "...upon our mutual friend, Robin Hood." Roy swallowed the lump of panic rising up in his throat, he could never do that, whether it gained him his freedom or not. The sheriff placed the dagger carefully on the table separating the two men and took a step backwards, allowing Roy some space to think his proposal over.

Roy took a deep breath and made his answer. "_I'd sooner kill me own mother!_" The sheriff grinned evilly and nodding to Gisbourne clapped his hands with impish glee. "Oh, _Good!_ You see, I was hoping that you'd say that... Because when people say 'Id sooner kill me own mother'..." He mocked again "...You rarely expect them to have that statement tested!" Roy turned to face the doors a second time and his mouth dropped in shock at the unfamiliar sight of his mother being dragged through the entrance to the hall. The old woman looked up confused, wondering what she had done wrong, and burst into tears at the sight of her son, who had been missing and feared dead for so long. "Royston! I thought you were dead! I thought you were-" At the same time Roy had begun sobbing "I was gunna come back! I swear, as soon as things got better, I was gunna come back, but things never got better..."

"So, shall we say, by midnight?" The sheriff said, as he gave Roy his terms, and ensured he'd been given a horse. Roy nodded sharply, just once, and jabbed his heels into the flank of the bay mare he was seated on. She leapt forward and they galloped out of the castle courtyard, being followed at a distance by two guards who were 'chasing' them.

* * *

Swallow rejoiced in her new found freedom as she ran down the darkened corridors. Flashes of orange leapt across her face as she sprinted past each torch. It was a remarkably easy escape, she thought, and surprising that she'd managed to get as far as the courtyard without encountering a single guard. Slowing down once she descended the stairs, she eyed the surrounding area, hoping that the missing guards were not congregating in the courtyard to witness the live 'entertainment'. The courtyard was quiet, save for the occasional sound of horses moving about restlessly in their stalls. Swallow moved towards the stables, knowing that she would need to liberate a fast horse in order to escape the sheriff's clutches and to avoid meeting the gallows like Roy had done. In the corner of the courtyard, silhouetted against the bright sky hung the hangman's' noose. Eyeing the cruelly knotted rope with distaste, she passed by it with a lump in her throat, trying not to think of Roy. As she entered the stable, the smell of old leather and fresh sweet smelling hay hit her instantly. Creeping forward, past each stable, most of which were empty, she made her way to the end of the building. There were not many horses to choose from and most of them didn't look capable of outrunning a lame duck, let alone another horse!

Turning about in desperation, gentle snorting towards her left stopped her panic. A soft muzzle was reaching over a stable door to meet her hand, which hung limply by her side. Cold air ran along her fingers as the horse blew outwards and lipped at her hand in a friendly gesture. Swallow smiled gently, all fear leaving her as she ran her hands along the shiny black neck. Gazing into the stallions deep brown eyes, she realised how powerful the horse was, and that the destrier, for it could be no other horse, was fast enough to aid her escape. At that precise moment, echoing footsteps alerted her to the presence of a couple of the sheriffs' men. They said nothing, merely pointing their swords at her. More than anything, it was the silence which unnerved her; caught unawares, she dropped her hands to her sides and allowed them to recapture her. Accepting defeat, she realised that it was easier to surrender than to engage in combat unarmed and outnumbered. As they crossed the courtyard, one of the men caught the shoulder of a serving boy as he scuttled past. He told the boy to tell the sheriff that they had caught the escaped prisoner, as she attempted to steal his prize destrier. The boy nodded, unable to keep his eyes off the sharp point of his sword and fled.

* * *

Once he had rode over the drawbridge and past the boundaries of the castle, Roy had glanced to his left, and into the shadows of the forest, where a flicker of movement had caught his attention. Robin and the baby, who was strapped to his front, were riding straight towards him, pulling sharply on the reins, he sent his horse in a wide curve to flank Robin's horse, which was stretched out at a full gallop to try and catch up with him. Together, they re-entered the forest line and dismounted to reunite with the rest of the group.

* * *

As Swallow was escorted back to her cell, or rather a new one, which had not been ripped apart, she glanced into an open door and noticed a weapon rack, which contained amongst other things, her sword and bow. She realised that the room must be used to contain confiscated items from prisoners and wondered if her cloak and scarf and other items were being kept in there. Smirking to herself, she allowed the guard to push her into her cell and leave her there with no food or water. Huddling in a corner of the cell, she began to plan her next escape attempt; she mustn't have much time left.


	6. Chapter 6

**Morning's First Light**

_Until you've crashed, until you've burned._

_Until you've lie, until you've learned._

_Until you see, until you believe!_

_Until you fight, until you fall,_

_Until the end of everything at all!_

_Until you die, until you're alive!_

_Don't save me! Don't save me!_

'_Cause I don't care!_

30 Seconds To Mars – Saviour

"I've gotta kill him! I've gotta kill him!" Roy screamed, throat hoarse and face streaming with tears. The dagger lay forgotten in a pile of hay as Will and Allan struggled to keep Roy pinned up against the barn door. The wood creaked slightly against the force pressed against it, but the sturdy wood held firm. Robin stormed forwards and shouted in his face. "What are you doing? We came to rescue you! Every man here was willing to risk his life for you! In war, a rescued man owes his life to his rescuers! He gives his life like that for the men who saved him!" Roy sobbed even louder at that, realising the depth of his treachery. He sagged and Allan and Will released him, realising he was no longer a threat to Robin. The commotion of the men scuffling mingled with Much's screams of "Master! Get up! Wake up! He's gonna kill him!" had awoken Little John and he staggered over shouting, "What is going on?"

Before Robin could reply, Much interrupted, "This one tried to kill Robin!" he jabbed a finger accusingly at Roy. "What?" John stood silently for a moment, uncomprehending. Then suddenly, without warning, lunged forward and attacked Roy. Swinging at him with forceful punches powerful enough to knock out even the strongest man, he hit Roy repeatedly around the head. Roy did nothing to defend himself, instead taking the blows as they came. "You were like my son!" Roy cried silently as the blows rained down upon him, accompanied by the shouts of anger. The rest of the men dragged John off of Roy as he screamed out at the much taller man "Kill me!" Instead of showing mercy, as one would expect in a situation much like this, John growled obligingly and replied with "I will kill you!" as the others succeeded in dragging him to the floor. A shout of "John! Leave it! That's enough!" had no effect as he struggled against Robin's grip and announced to the others "I'll kill him!" Robin kept holding him down into the straw covering the floor and shouted, "Listen to me! Listen to me! That's enough." finally succeeding in calming him down somewhat, which allowed Robin to speak calmly. "Enough. I need to think. Stop. Now."

John got up and moved away, pausing to spit in the general direction of Roy, and allowed Robin to approach him. Crouching down to Roy's level, he spoke quietly. "What have I ever done to you, to make you want to kill me?" The men stood silently, watching the situation unfold, as they panted slightly with the exertion of wrestling both Roy and John to the floor. "My mother. They've got my mother!" He cried openly to the men, his voice taking on a tone of desperation. "And they will kill her," Robin spoke to him, understanding the situation instantly "Unless you kill me first…" He sniffed forlornly, nodding "She will hang at dawn…" The five other men lowered their heads, realising the torment Roy must be going through. Will spoke, quietly but his voice was full of anger "I hate the Sheriff." Robin rose from the hay bale he was seated on and neared Roy. "And the story about the child's mother?" he asked, "That was a lie too?" Roy nodded slightly, sniffing through his tears and told them the true story. "Gisborne is the father." Will, looked at Allan, shocked. Speaking incredulously, he asked "Gisborne?" as if certain he had made a mistake. Roy nodded in conformation and continued, "The mother's a kitchen girl. She thinks Gisborne is going to take the baby to Kirklees Abbey to be raised there." Will slowly shook his head in disgust, "I hate Gisborne too." Much stood up, speaking to the rest of the men. "But that doesn't mean that this one can go around killing my master!" Robin waved a hand to silence him, and walked away from the group saying "Come on." Much looked up from Roy who still lay snivelling on the ground "What?" Picking up his sword and attaching it to his belt, he addressed the gang, looking serious "We have two mothers to rescue before sunrise."

* * *

Sat in her cell, all Swallow could do now was wait. She had spent hours trying to formulate a plan to escape her cell a second time, but that thoughtful jailer had seen fit to place her in a cell with iron bars so she could not break out again.

Somewhere at the other end of the dungeons a door banged and she could hear the swish of a cloak as the sheriff glided towards her. "Word has it, that you tried to steal my new horse today…" he reprimanded "Which reminds me Gisborne, have the farrier shoe Adonis with an identifying mark -" he paused "- a horse of such a pedigree cannot be lost, he is part of the Ahearn lineage, you know" the sheriff continued, speaking to his man at arms as if she was not there. Swallow wondered if this was a plan of his, perhaps to get her to lose her nerve or something. "Indeed, I have heard that he is the son of Iberus and his dam was Antares, am I correct?" the sheriff, nodded, rubbing his hands in glee. "Yes, you are Gisborne, so I am sure you can fully appreciate the rarity of such a horse. In fact, I believe after the hanging I shall go for a ride." Swallow blanched in shock, surely not! The sheriff had only come here to gloat about his new destrier, so that he could taunt her impending death!

Turning away from him and feigning disinterest appeared to have an effect, as the sheriff turned and focused his attention upon her once more "Oh no, I do not of course refer to your own hanging," he paused "But to that of the mother of your little friend, what was his name?" he paused, pretending to think "Oh yes!" waving his hand airily "_Royston White, I fight f'r King an't Country!_" he mocked. "You see, I made a little deal with _Royston White_" he gloated "in order to save his own and his mother's life, he has to use one of these-" he waved a sharp dagger in front of her face "-on your other little friend, Robin Hood." Swallow felt relief and shock at the same time. Roy was not dead, but the evil sheriff had blackmailed him into killing his friend. She just hoped the other outlaws would find out before it was too late.

"What I want to know," the sheriff was now saying, "is why Hood hasn't come to rescue yet? Or why you haven't appeared with Hood and his men before? " he grinned maliciously "Are you not important enough? Or do they leave you behind to do the cooking?" Swallow's jaw dropped in shock at the sexist comment, but she made no reply. "Very well," he spoke quietly, as if deep in thought, then leant back and muttered at Gisborne "She can go to the gallows at midday."

* * *

The milk cart travelled slowly through the gates and halted a little way into the castle courtyard. The farmer looked carefully about him, obviously afraid he'd get caught, and then rapped loudly on the wood. A hidden compartment opened up and Will and Allan carefully rolled out and made their way back to the gate. Quickly and quietly dispatching the two guards there with two blows to the back of the head, they lifted the heavy wooden beam blocking the doorway and opened it for the rest of the men.

* * *

Allan split from the group to find the baby's mother in the kitchens, as the rest of the men made their way towards the dungeons to rescue Roy's mother, Mary. Entering the kitchens, he stepped forward cautiously towards the young woman preparing vegetables for that day's cooking. "Annie?" he asked quietly. The girl, barely a woman, turned and answered, "Yes?" clearly confused. Holding out his hand to her, he said, "I think this belongs to you." and handed her the baby's green shawl.

* * *

Once they reached the two foot thick door that they had heard about, Will took charge and spent a few minutes knocking upon the thick wooden door to determine the weaker spots attached to the hinges were. Then, taking out the smaller of his two axes, he began cutting his way through the wood, to pull out the hinges. Once in, the gang made their way down the narrow gangway calling out in whispers for Mary. Unbeknownst to them, the sheriff, Gisborne and several guards were following behind them, copying their whispers in a mocking way. The gang all grasped their weapons that little bit tighter, as it didn't look like they'd be able to escape without a fight – they were cornered. "Where is she? What've you done wi' 'er?" Roy demanded. Looking back at him unblinkingly, the sheriff answered calmly "Gisborne. What do you think? Does that look like the first light of day?" Gisborne glanced sideways slightly, and nodded, looking smug, as always. "Hmm. I kept my side of the bargain, you didn't keep yours!" turning his back on them, he stalked away out of the dungeons "So. Bring them to see 'Mary, Mary'" he mock whispered, "swing."

As the guards converged towards the men, two grabbing hold of each man, Swallow took her chance to get their attention. Putting her fingers in her mouth, she whistled piercingly – just like the time she stopped them from getting bowled over by the horses. Catching Will and Robin's attention, she spoke to Will, the only one she had spoken to before "Swallow _is_ a girls name," she said with a sad smile as they were escorted outside. From the look in his eyes, he knew who she was; hopefully they'd be able to help her if they themselves managed to get away.

The jailer who had been standing nearby, watching them being taken away, followed them at a run, eager to watch the hanging. As he jumped down the steps next to her cell, something shiny fell from his pocket. On closer inspection, Swallow found it to be a set of keys. Surprised beyond belief, she leant closer to make sure they really were keys and that her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. Satisfied they were real, she stretched her hands out and succeeded in hooking the ring of keys inside her cell. Picking them up and trying the keys into the lock of the door, she could hardly bite back the yell of joy building in her throat as the door swung open.

* * *

Rounding the corner and seeing his mother stood up at the gallows with a noose about her neck was one of the things he never wanted to see. He couldn't help shouting, "Mother!" as their eyes met, it was just something he had to do, as if it would help make her feel better or as if it might free her. He knew that nothing he could say or do would help that to happen, but at least he'd tried.

As they descended the stone steps past the Sheriff, he pointed his cane towards the executioner, saying "No hood, I think…" emphasising the torture Roy would have to go through, watching his mother die. "You'll rot in hell for this!" Roy spat as he was dragged past the sheriff. "Really? Just for this?" The sheriff asked, apparently unbothered by the insult. Singing aloud, swinging his cane from side to side with each word "Mary, Mary's, Boy's contrary, time to see her swing!" Giving a nod to the hangman, they were all taken by surprise when the kitchen girl appeared from nowhere and put a meat cleaver to Guy of Gisborne's throat.

* * *

Sneaking out through the door, she unsheathed her sword and made her way outside, knowing that she would have to fight her way out through the soldiers. A loud shout came from her left, sounding a lot like a distraught young woman. Rounding the corner, hiding slightly behind a stone column, she watched the situation unfold. "Murderers!" She screamed in his face, Swallow paled, she certainly was a formidable woman. Wondering what the man had done to offend her, her lip curled slightly in appreciation as she shouted, "I will kill you! Do not move!" Guy seemed slightly flustered at this and attempted to speak with her, saying "Annie…" A movement by her side distracted Swallow momentarily, heralding the appearance of Allan. Meanwhile, the girl, Annie, was shouting "You left him in the woods! You said he would be safe! You left him to die! Our son! Our baby!" Swallow's mouth dropped in shock. The horrible man! How could he stand to do such a thing? The sheriff didn't seem too shocked at this new revelation, in fact only slightly reprimanded him with a "Gisborne! Tut, tut!" Those words apparently caused a suitable distraction, as Gisborne smacked the knife away from him, elbowing her in the face in the process. At that moment, Robin hit the guards restraining him, scattering them down the steps. The rest of the men followed his suit, Will pushing one of them against the wall as Allan and Swallow sped past, towards Annie, who was still being hit by Gisborne.

Swallow reached the woman first, who was lying motionless on the floor whilst Gisborne kicked her; in revenge for the humiliation she had caused him. Pulling him off Annie, she punched him in the face and pushed him backwards, helping Annie to her feet and pushing her towards Allan who led her towards safety. Glancing backwards at Swallow, he could just see Gisborne plunge a sharp dagger into her leg. Running back to help her, he booted Guy out of the way severely, before lifting the girl to her feet and running towards the gate with her limping by his side. Meanwhile, Robin and John had released Mary from the gallows and were leading her towards the castle gates. With a cry of "To the horses!" the men detached themselves from the soldiers they were fighting and retreated towards the marketplace, no doubt where the horses were.

Glancing behind her, Swallow could see that Roy was slowly becoming overrun with guards and was getting left behind. Looking at Allan, who was too preoccupied with getting Annie to safety and fighting his way past the guard attacking him, she limped back towards the Castle doors. Almost as soon as she did so, things took a turn for the worse. The sheriff grabbed hold of Roy and placed a small dagger to his throat. "Locksley!" he shouted, catching the attention of Robin and his men. "Why so much haste, my friend?" Swallow paused unsure of what to do, but certain she hated this sheriff and the way he mocked everyone and everything. "Sorry to ruin your day, but if you leave – he gets it!" he gestured to Roy with the hand holding the dagger. "Hah, this our little friend the dilemma calling!" By the gate, Robin had already put an arrow to his bow and was already aiming it at the sheriff's head. Much protested, with a shout of "Master, you cannot give yourself up every five minutes!" Robin pretended not to hear "Let him go, or we all die here today." The outlaw demanded.

Swallow looked about her, desperate to help but unable to find anyway to do so. Then, she remembered her little trip to the stables earlier, when she heard a hoof scraping the floor in the corner. Looking towards the shadows, she grinned with relief when she realised it was the destrier she had seen earlier. Remembering the sheriff's words _"Have Adonis shod with an identifying mark."_ Her smile dropped slightly as she inconspicuously neared the stallion, she couldn't risk betraying the outlaws camp if her plan worked. Bending down and lifting up one of the horse's hooves, she nearly yelled with euphoria as it became apparent that the farrier had not shod him yet!

A hand on her shoulder dragged her from her thoughts. Shocked, she turned to meet her assailants. Three or four guards stood behind her about to attack, but before they could do so, she had thrown herself on top of Adonis and was galloping wildly towards the sheriff who still held Roy captive.

As they neared him, Swallow saw the outlaw whose life she had tried to save earlier head butt the man behind him and run back towards the castle. Guards quickly surrounded him, but the warhorse had a fast stride and was bounding up the stairs, encouraged by a slap from the flat of her blade. His feet left the ground and crushed into several of the guards as he whirled and plunged about. Swallow leant over his shoulder, whirling her sword and knocking guards out of the way as they ploughed towards Roy. Extending her hand towards him as he fought off one man, he took only a second to deliberate and graciously accepted it, scrambling onto the back of the destrier and laughing at the sheriff's astounded face as they galloped out of the castle and towards the waiting outlaws.

* * *

The cart rounded the corner and came to a halt, waiting for the grey horse behind to catch up. The slender woman seated upon it turned towards Robin as he hurried forwards, hood up to obscure his face. "Your hair!" he exclaimed, swallow looked upon the Lady Marian, noting her hair had been cut short and untidy. "It was a nuisance to wash…" she said, clearly uncomfortable about the subject.

Annie boarded the cart, then graciously accepted Seth from Allan, before sliding up to make room for Roy and his mother. "One more thing," Will said, handing her a small package. "We, er, open it later." The outlaws all stepped forwards, offering their hands to Roy, silently saying Thankyou for his allegiance, saying their goodbyes. "Goodbye Lavender Boy." Roy said, looking at Robin, as the cart pulled away and took Roy and his Mother to their new lives working for Lady Glasson.

"I have to say, I'm not going to miss that baby." Much said, without a hint of regret. "Me neither," Will nodded, breathing in deeply, as if savouring the fresh air " Peace." He added. "_Sleep!" _Allan moaned, rejoicing, eyes closed blissfully. Then, turning to the tree line, he spoke to Swallow, who was still seated upon Adonis. "Now then. Lets get that leg bandaged up." She nodded, too weary to say anything else, merely glancing at her blood soaked breeches, hoping the gash wasn't too big. Allan stepped forward, grabbing hold of Adonis's martingale and swung himself up behind Swallow, taking the reins from her and urging the horse into a trot to catch up with the others. Swallow closed her eyes, just for a moment and leant against his chest, allowing the flowing movements of the stallion to lull her to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Morning's First Light**

_I fell in love again  
Don't know how it happened  
She slipped away again  
The same as last weekend  
Oh, its a routine thing  
Just with some new feelings  
I always choke up when  
I get close to closing in_

The Maine – Life Like This

The outlaw's camp was surrounded by what seemed like endless forest, an infinite maze of tree trunks reaching up to meet the sky. The camp was near the bottom of a cliff, which provided them with some well-needed protection against the bitter southwesterly wind. They had set up a shelter against rain, a piece of material on top of a framework of logs. Boulders on either side provided them with something to lean upon. The floor was littered with the autumnal leaves, some scuttling gently along the forest floor as the breeze nudged them.

Upon arrival at the camp, the men were all sat silently, mulling over their thoughts and sorrow at the departure of Roy. It was clear that they wished he could stay, especially John, who seemed to have a fondness for the young man, yet they seemed to understand how his love for his mother had meant that he had to leave – to keep her safe. The look of sorrow upon each of their faces showed how much the man had meant to them. Offering a small smile to each of them in turn, Swallow couldn't be entirely sure if any of them had noticed. John was sullenly stoking the fire with the burnt end of a branch, Will had settled down on a log to whittle a stick and Robin had wandered away from the main camp and was staring into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes. Much was chattering away to himself and the others, completely unaware that noone was listening. He set a cook pot over the stove and set water to boil, complaining about something or other. Something about the look on Allan's face made Swallow think that this wasn't such a rare occasion.

Removing her feet from the stirrups with some difficulty due to the stiffness in her joints and the stabbing pain in her lower leg, she let them dangle for a minute or two, watching as Allan dismounted and tied Adonis's reins to a branch next to Robin's horse. Realising how weary she was now, she leant forward and dismounted haphazardly, stumbling and falling into the flank of the destrier. Allan leaped forward and caught her before she fell, helping her to sit down on a log by the fire.

Gradually warming up by the fire, with a clean bandage and healing salve on her leg, and a bowl of rabbit stew in her hand, Swallow began to feel more comfortable. Wrapping her cloak about her, she extended her hands to the fire, basking in the heat emanating from the red-hot coals, listening to the men talk quietly amongst themselves. Glancing at Will, she noticed he was still absorbed in whittling away at the piece of wood. Leaning towards him, she spoke quietly "What are you making?" He started, drawn from his reverie by her voice. "Oh, er, nothing." He tried to shield it from her with his hand, but was too slow; she had already caught hold of it. Sat in her hand was a tiny wooden owl. "Impressive!" She breathed, marvelling at the detail in his craftsmanship. His cheeks pinked up slightly "It's nothing. I'm not very good…" he trailed off. Pressing the model back into his hand, she curled his fingers about it, to ensure he did not drop it. "You have a talent - make good use of it!" She said with a smile, graciously accepting the hunk of bread Allan had brought her, finishing the stew along with it.

Robin had rejoined the group by now, and had seated himself opposite Swallow, watching her across the campfire. Clearing his throat, silence descended amongst the men as their leader addressed the stranger. "Thankyou for risking your life for Roy. It was a brave thing to do." There were murmurs of agreement from the others and a slap on the back from Allan nearly caused her to inhale half of her ale. "It was nothing. I failed him before, it was the least I could do, and I couldn't stand there and watch him die." The outlaws appeared to disagree, shaking their heads "I ain't being funny, but none of us could'a got 'im free either…" Allan butted in" Robin nodded, silently agreeing, "I take it you _were_ the one who helped us commandeer those horses from Gisborne? I had my suspicions..." Swallow nodded, extending her hand to Robin and sharing her name with the other outlaws. "Seriously?" Allan asked incredulously. She nodded slightly, expecting him to disbelieve her. He crowed with laughter, shaking her hand vigorously, "Nice one!" He exclaimed appreciatively, pumping her hand up and down in an enthusiastic handshake.

Again, clearing his throat, Robin restored order to the camp, and resumed his questioning of her, asking where she came from and why she was wandering the forest in the disguise of a man. The sun had almost set by the time she had finished recounting her tale to the captivated men, at which point many of them were dozing off in front of the fire, mentally and physically worn out by the day's activities - Swallow included. Robin stood, stretching his arms high above his head and yawning loudly, beckoning the others to retire for the night. "For the moment, my lady," he added "I strongly advise you remain in Sherwood Forest, at least until the excitement dies down..." Swallow nodded, too exhausted to argue and dragged herself to a rocky overhang, wrapping herself in her blanket and settled down for the night. Robin remained sat for a while, watching as the others made their camp around the pretty young woman. He watched as her eyes focused on the bright light of the stars above her, just for a moment, then rolled over and went to sleep. He had not the heart to tell her she probably would never be able to leave, for fear of her being prosecuted over the theft of the horse. He could not admit that this was her own fault, but he could not help feeling guilty at the fact that she was now being labelled an outlaw by the sheriff. She would never be safe again.

* * *

As she stirred that morning, it became clear that most of the others were already awake. Yawning copiously, John sat stoking the fire, Will was nowhere to be seen, Allan was still asleep and Much sat with his back to a tree trunk, stirring slightly. Robin, who was a little way away, watching Much stand up and stretch, slowly raised his bow. Looking up at him, Swallow could barely suppress a smirk at his cheeky grin as he pinned the piece of meat Much was about to eat to the wooden shelter Allan was asleep under. John watched the arrow fly past him, and shrugged, going back to the fire. Swallow assumed Robin was like that a lot. "I knew you'd be like that!" Much complained, trying to free his beloved haunch of meat. "If you want to go to the archery competition so much, _why don't you just go?_" Robin nocked another arrow to his bow, while Much's back was turned and winked at Swallow, as he noticed she was awake. "I'm not!" He protested, a childlike tone in his voice. "Or we could have a little competition of our own," Much added "Why not here? In the forest?" Robin sighed, almost exasperated with Much, and raised his bow into the air again. "I do not want to be in the archery competition!" He insisted. "_Even _if there is a silver arrow for the winner!" Swallow suppressed another laugh: if he didn't want to be in this competition, then why was he suddenly making such a big show of his archery skills? He was about as subtle as a sheep dressed like a duck! John moved out of the way of Much, clearly worried that more arrows would be flying that way. He wasn't wrong. Loosing the arrow, he let it fly through the hunk of meat in Much's hand and embed itself in the wooden pole of the shelter. Allan shot up out of bed instantly at the dull _thunk _it caused, grinning at Swallow as he did so. Reaching up to the arrow, he pulled it from the wood with ease and examined the meat before chewing with gusto. "Just as well," Much added, a note of sarcasm in his voice "Because after we've gone hunting and found us a decent feast, there won't be time to go all the way to Nottingham for this competition and get ourselves hanged!" Turning away, Robin shot two arrows in quick succession at a bronze coloured kettle hanging from a tree. As they made contact, a metallic ringing sound echoed about the woods.

Robin laughed mirthfully, practically giggling like a child. John and Much looked on, enduring his ridiculous behaviour, whilst Will came sliding down the hill, sticks and stones following him as he kicked up leaves in his rush to get back to the camp. "The trap worked!" He shouted, a broad grin on his face "We caught one! Lets go! Let's go!" Almost instantly the camp was empty as the others rushed off to the trap. Swallow looked at Allan quizzically as he waited for her to pick up her weapons, and follow him. She couldn't quite understand why they were all needed to bring back the deer or rabbit or whatever it was that they had trapped. As they followed the others, Allan looked at her, suddenly aware that no one had spoken to her yet that morning. "So," he said, dragging it out until it sounded nothing like a word anymore "So?" Swallow replied, mocking his nervousness. He grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, scratching at his neck. He grinned again, more confident now and spoke with a cheeky glint in his eye "How was your first night in Sherwood Forest, _my lady_?" He winked at her, knowing that there was no point calling her that as she had effectively rejected her family, and along with that, her title and dowry. "Comfier than a feather bed, you know, _Sir Allan_" she replied, with a grin and a cheeky wink as she called him Sir. "Hmm, I could get used to that!" he mused, closing his eyes and walking off to catch up with the others, mumbling "Yes _Sir Allan, _Certainly _Sir Allan,_" Nodding in satisfaction, he turned back to Swallow, who had begun to lag behind.

It all became clearer when they rounded the corner to see a cart stuck in 'the trap'. Swallow laughed out loud, when the driver, a fat man with black curly hair slammed his fist into the side of the cart shouting with rage. "Aargh! Rubbishy! And you-" He jabbed a finger at the two cobs, one a grey, the other a chestnut, who were stood patiently, waiting for the cart to be free again."- And you! Rubbishy!" He repeated, clearly frustrated that he wasn't going anywhere in a while. Then, Robin appeared from the tree line, approaching silently. The others surrounded him, bows trained on the man. Swallow bit back her surprise. She hadn't seen any movement from Allan, who was right next to her. She stepped forward, her hand on the hilt of her sword, to make it look as if she had been ready for the ambush. Allan looked at her with a smirk on his face that clearly said 'I know you weren't ready for that'. In reply, she turned to him and muttered "Shut up! Rubbishy outlaw!" so quietly she couldn't be sure he had heard her. After a seconds silence, he snorted with laughter, only to be stopped by a glance from Robin. The driver appeared to recognise Robin and realised what he wanted as he sighed resignedly and threw a leather bag on the floor. "'Ere! It's all I 'ave o' value, tek it!" Robin smiled, barely noticeably but it was a smile nonetheless. Inclining his head to Much, he watched as the young man jumped from the fallen tree trunk he was stood on, to collect it. Allan lowered his bow to look about the clearing as Much examined the contents of the bag. "Pretty," he spoke, holding up a circle of glass "-but not very appetising."

Robin was not listening, he had heard murmurs from under the skins covering the cart. His slight smile had disappeared and he was now frowning at the cart driver, whose head was stretched backward in frustration. "Livestock?" The outlaw asked, trying to keep the conversation casual. Swallow suspected that he was trying to keep his temper low. "Look, just take 'em and leave me to go on my way." the man begged, "They'll work for you!" Robin stepped from the rock he was stood on, and wandered over to the cart, Much not far behind. "They understand basic commands," he continued, as Robin pulled back the covering to inspect his cargo. "They're men for the sheriff's mine." he added, as it became clear that the cart was full of Saracen slaves. Swallow looked on silently, unable to speak for shock. "Slaves?" Much asked incredulously, barely believing what was in front of his very eyes. Swallow peered at Robin, unable to make out the expression on his face, was it pity? Or anger?

Much soon supplied the answers. "I never thought I'd see this again..." he said quietly to the others, "Outrageous. It's a disgrace, trading people." he looked like he was about to throw up. Robin had appeared to cheer up, offering the driver more and more wine. Swallow hoped that it was a ploy to get him to divulge more important information, and not that Robin had forgiven the man for his slave trading. Allan appeared to have the same opinion, as he caught hold of Robin when he next passed the group. "Er, I ain't being funny, but have you brought him here for a picnic?" Robin shook his head, speaking quietly to him, in order to make sure he had no unwanted listeners. "We need him. He is our way into the mine," Much stumbled forward, eager as always to put his opinion in for consideration. Glancing quickly at the driver to make sure he could not overhear, he continued. "There _is _no way into the mine!" Robin disagreed with him, telling Much that the slavery needed to come to an end. "_This _is a gift!" He said conspiratorially "We can close the mine once and for all. We can stop this human trafficking!" Their conversation was interrupted by the fairly drunken man's raucous laughter.

Once Robin neared him, he began laughing even more. "I thought you were gonna slit me throat!" He laughed "Or worse!" Robin smiled down at the man, though it did not quite reach his eyes. "Oh no! We don't do throat slitting!" After a moments pause, he added, "It's too messy!" Then, with a glance towards John, he continued, "Now that you've been fed, I would like to feed your prisoners?" The man paused to think, what harm could it do? At the very least, it was free food and he wouldn't have to give from his own pocket to feed the scrawny buggers. He nodded, "No meat. Makes 'em spirited see," Robin nodded thoughtfully, "-and don't get too close," He warned, "Don't let 'em _breathe _on ya... They're full of disease! Some of our soldiers dropped dead after getting too close!"

Will repeated, "dropped dead?" in a scornful tone, as if he didn't really believe the man.

Apparently, the cart driver did not pick up on this and carried on, as if taking part in a casual conversation. "Oh aye! One minute stood there, strong as you," Swallow and Allan grinned at each other when they realised he was trying to compliment Will in an attempt to escape. "Then, the next, brains dripping from their nostrils..." Swallow pulled a face. That was certainly something she didn't want to envisage, especially this early in the morning. She could see Will was doing the same thing, apparently the man's story had creeped him out too, watching as he turned away from the laughing man with a look of shock and disgust. The man's laughs erupted into coughs and he paused to spit out a globule of phlegm. "Water." he said, after recovering from his coughing fit. "That'll do 'em. They had some scraps earlier." Will stood by the cart, unmoving, as if scared to get too close to the slaves. Robin stepped forward saying, "Will! They need water!" in a chastising way. Swallow felt sorry for him, as he really did look too scared to give them the water they needed.

"Yeah! I'm on it!" he replied. Robin leaned in close, to whisper

"You seriously don't believe that story do you?" as if questioning his braveness.

"No!" Will protested.

"Right, well give them the water then!" came the answer "Can't you see they're suffering enough?"

"Well, I did notice that you're not doing it!"

Robin scoffed. "There is no disease! It's just superstition!" Then, he paused for a moment and a grin appeared on his face that seemed to be broadening every second. Grabbing hold of Will's neck he pulled him forward and planted a massive kiss on his cheek. "_You, _are a genius!" he grinned, before wandering off to find John. "What in the hell was that about?" asked Swallow, an incredulous look on her face. Will shrugged, scrubbing at the wet mark on his cheek with his sleeve, the redness appearing both from embarrassment and the force of his scrubbing. "It would appear that Robin appears to have one of those brilliant plans again!" he said.

"What, those _brilliant _plans, that almost always go wrong, sort of plans?" asked Allan, Will nodded briskly "Great. We're all gonna die. Again. Thanks Robin."

"John?" called Robin "Have a drink with our friend!" he said, as the man neared him.

"What?" He complained, almost immediately.

"I need to go into the forest to look for something. Keep him occupied for a bit. If he loses consciousness, then so be it." John nodded and wandered away, back towards the man they had kept prisoner by plying with several flasks of wine, then paused. "_No consciousness?"_ he asked, just to make sure he had heard right. After Robin had nodded his confirmation, John turned and slowly, yet deliberately, picked up his staff. Turning to the slave trader with a wide grin, he waited until the smile was returned before dealing the man a brutally heavy blow about the head and allowing him to collapse to the floor, unconscious. Finishing off the rest of the wine, he looked up to the rest of the group with a blissful smile on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, so here's the deal. I desperately want to update Tricks That Once Fooled Me, but I'm only going to start updating once I've caught up with Morning's First Light. I also have a new idea for a new story, which I will writing and updating in time with Alone in The Sunlight. Now, here's the problem and where you come in. I have a very meagre amount of reviews, and actually, its really rather upsetting. Looking at the views, its fairly hard to say that noone reads my stories - 'cause I'm getting a hundred views a month for some of them. Yet, I have only eight reviews for this one. I know this may be down to the fact that I haven't replied to any of these reviews, but that is due to complications with my computer. Now that is fixed, I can safely say I will be replying to any reviews I may get in the future, without fail. Finally, I will not be updating Alone In The Sunlight until I actually get a review, as otherwise it just appears that I have no talent at writing and that noone can even guide me in the right direction. Thankyou for reading.  
**

**Morning's First Light**

_It was a thousand to one_

_And a million to two_

_Time to go down in flames_

_and I'm taking you_

_Closer to the edge!_

30 Seconds To Mars – Closer To The Edge

Robin waltzed back to the gang fairly quickly, with a spring in his step and a grin on his face. Waving his discovery in the air, he handed it to Allan and settled down to explain. Swallow hovered near the edge of the group, unsure whether she should join them to hear their plan, as, she wasn't, after all, a member of their gang.

As the others gathered around him, seated on various rocks and tree stumps, Robin looked up in confusion, searching the clearing for her. Once he realised she was stood quite some way away, he beckoned to her, gesturing that she should sit on the fallen log next to him. When she did not move, he sighed "John?" John nodded, standing up to usher the woman to her seat. Grinning sheepishly, she sat down without complaint, though many of the outlaws were watching her with looks of amusement. With that, Robin began talking, as the tiny shrivelled leaf was passed about the group. Swallow returned the looks of amusement as both Allan and Much sniffed the foliage, clearly wondering whether it was any good to eat.

"We need someone to get past the guards at the mines," he said. "Someone to travel in the cage with the prisoners!" Then, when no one answered, he added "We need a man on the inside to start the rumour of Turk Flu!" Much looked up from the plant, which he was eyeing distastefully. Swallow assumed that it didn't smell very nice. "A volunteer, you mean," he said, second-guessing Robin instantly. Robin looked up, exasperated, "Yes, Much! Thank you!" Much evidently didn't mean to volunteer himself, saying "Allan!" and instead handing the plant to him. Robin chuckled at Much's blatant cowardliness and glanced away.

Swallow mimicked him, uninterested for the time being, instead focusing on the sounds of the forest around them. It sounded as if literally hundreds of birds were calling to each other from right above their heads. Amongst the noise of the singing, the trees were rustling gently and she could hear the snorts of the two impatient horses, waiting just a few metres away. Looking back at the group of outlaws, she watched as Allan investigated the plant for a second time, twirling it about his fingers curiously. "And what, I eat this do I?" The young man asked, sounding as if he was seriously contemplating volunteering. "No!" his leader replied, practically shouting at him "Just…Chew." He added calmly. A thump echoed about the clearing as Much jumped from his seat on a particularly high rock. Swallow jumped at the unexpected noise, earning her a few badly concealed snickers of laughter. "It'll be easy!" Robin continued, trying to convince his gang. "Once the guards believe that the prisoners have a disease, they'll run for their lives!" Much turned back to Robin, an incredulous look on his face. "Oh master, surely only the stupidest among them will believe a story like that! I mean… Turk Flu?" Swallow looked from Much to Robin in a mixture of confusion and amazement. _Master? Surely Much is not treated as a servant?_

Interpreting her confusion correctly, Will leant forward and whispered "Robin was once Earl of Huntingdon and Much, his manservant." Looking back at him, she nodded her thanks, suddenly understanding why Much referred to him as 'Master'. _Once. Apparently becoming an outlaw equals relinquishing his title. _She thought to herself. Robin, spoke in a low voice. "People fear what they don't understand." interrupting as she opened her mouth to hurriedly whisper to Will, asking if that was the case. "I wasn't scared!" Will said quietly, mumbling as if Robin had upset him. Swallow threw him a sympathetic smile; in all honesty she'd been scared too, unconsciously taking a step back from the cart as soon as hearing the rumour. Allan had noticed, but had graciously turned his head away, pretending not to notice. "Will, you've proved my point exactly!" said Robin, standing up as Much turned away scoffing at Will. "If, even you had _doubts_, well then, the sheriff's men," he trailed off, watching Much examining the polished piece of glass. "It'll be a pushover!" Much spoke up, from by the cart. "It'll _never _work! I have an idea, which doesn't rely on all of the sheriff's guards being as stupid as-" He gestured to the cart with the hand containing the leather bag with the glass in. Swallow could barely bite back the shout of laughter as a young Saracen lad grabbed hold of it and determinedly held on.

The outlaws all gathered around as he cried out "That's mine! Stolen!" and clasped it tight to his chest. Swallow hung back a bit, more content to watch how they dealt with the situation; barely noticing how Allan had disappeared off through the trees. "You speak English!" Robin asked incredulously, Much copied his master's expression, glancing at him in confusion. Allan returned from watching the road, whistling to get Robin's attention, as John rendered the cart driver unconscious once more. The group stumbled quickly up the hill, disturbing leaves as they ran, pulling themselves up the slope with their hands in some places. "You're not going to like this Robin…" Allan said quietly, as they examined the road, watching as the carriage went past, bearing black and yellow, the colours of Gisbourne. "I think that's Marian in Gisbourne's coach…" Swallow looked across to gauge Robin's reaction. Judging by his expression, it was not a good thing. Allan was right; Robin clearly did not like it. "She must be going to Nottingham, to the sheriff's fair," said Will.

Back at the clearing, where the others were settling down to wait for the cart driver, Swallow began to observe Much try and fail to convince the Saracens to renounce their God and take up Christianity in an attempt to prevent the Sheriff from buying them. According to the former servant, it is impossible to trade Christians as slaves, giving him the impression that he had formulated a simple, effective and clever plan to gain them freedom and allow him to get back to the camp for lunch. She laughed quietly, when the Saracen he was talking to answered back quite impertinently "Opening the cage, that is simple and effective!" He laughed slightly too, clearly covering up how uncomfortable he was, and then dropped his voice till it was barely audible. He muttered something about "Gods are all knowing." and continued speaking in earnest. After a few minutes, he turned and quickly babbled, "I do not believe in God. There." clearly trying to convince the slave that he too could renounce God. Swallow saw Allan striding up to Much and clap him on the shoulder and laughed as he jumped in shock and barely managed to stifle a cry of fear. Allan caught her eye for a moment and laughed along with her, cheerfully winking at her, before turning back to Much, saying "Come on, I need you to help me tie up Brooker," which appeared to be the name of the cart driver. It was only after Much had turned away from the cart, that she could hear him say, "I do. _Obviously._" and cast his eyes to the heavens.

* * *

The man known as Brooker awoke shortly later, as they relocated to a small hill over looking the mines. Will had explained the story behind them, telling her that most local villagers were employed to excavate iron ore but had recently gone on strike after many of their friends and family had been killed in collapsed mine shafts. As she had surveyed the area nearby, she noticed rows and rows of freshly dug graves. Looking on with an expression of sorrow, she watched as the survivors, namely wives and children mourned for their loved ones. Nearby, she saw the sheriff and _Sir _Guy of Gisbourne, watching in amusement as a captain or sergeant commanded his men to do some manoeuvres. ("_Left, Left, Left annnd, Turn!_") Shaking her head in disgust at him, she turned to Will, saying, "He really does enjoy seeing others suffer, doesn't he?" She was met by silence; upon looking up to meet his face, she saw the entire group of men nodding their heads in agreement, looking about as disgusted as she was.

Robin crouched down nearby, watching the scene below and then spoke carefully and deliberately as he detailed the plan to those who were listening. "When the Sheriff and Gisbourne leave for Nottingham, Allan will do his thing, then we'll strike." As the soldiers neared their hiding place, they slipped back down the hillside and towards the waiting cart. Robin once again explained the plan to Brooker; threatening him with the violence he had been so terrified of meeting, _("Be warned, we may have to rethink our policy on throat slitting."_) He gestured to Allan, who was stood just by his side, and warned the man that he would be riding just behind him in the cart, so as to warn him against telling the guards about their plans. Looking up, she saw Allan barely disguise his boyish grin at the thought of sneaking into the mines right under the sheriff's nose. Robin looked as if he was about to carry on speaking, but was interrupted by John's shout of "Fire! There's a fire!"

With gasps of astonishment from the others, and a look of confusion from Much, they all hurried after John, who had disappeared around the back of the cart. The rope used to keep the cage secure had been set on fire somehow. Instantly, Much began shouting about punishment from God and crying "I'm sorry Lord, I do believe!" Will stood silently for a moment, then leapt forward and pulled the rope free from the cage, as Allan shouted, "Will you just shut up, Much!" If not for the seriousness of the situation, Swallow would have burst out laughing right there and then. As soon as the rope was free, the slaves rushed against the opening of the cage in a bid to escape, however John pushed his entire weight against them, stopping them in their tracks. "What are you doing?" Robin asked, enraged. The Saracen glared back at him, equally as angry at being kept prisoner against his will. "Let us go!" He demanded fiercely. Robin resisted, trying to explain to them that he was trying to helm them. The Saracen stared him down, enraged. "You keep us locked in this cage to sell to another! You are no better than him!" He said, jerking his head backwards to indicate the driver.

Robin replied calmly, saying, "Please, let me explain. Then, if you do not wish to help us then you are free to go, you have my word." Then he added, "What is your name?" and leant back to wait for the answer. Swallow saw a flicker of hesitation cross over the boy's face, as if he was unsure whether to answer, until he blurted out a single word: Djaq. Robin continued speaking, explaining what would happen if they were to release them straight away. "The Sheriff will send for more men to work these mines, men like you. So we want to put an end to this today. But, we need your help." Djaq looked back at him, and then asked, "How will you help us?" Robin shrugged his shoulders in answer, as if it was simple. "The Sheriff will pay for you, we'll give you the money and point you towards the people who will get you back home." The boy, Djaq, looked displeased. "You made us the enemy, and now you ask us for our help?" Robin sighed, and took a step back. Swallow could tell he was fast losing patience with him. He opened the cage door, extended his arm towards the forest and said. "Let them decide. If you want to take your chance with freedom now, then go."

A man stood next to Djaq spoke quietly, in the Saracen tongue. Allan looked up from the ground, where he had been quietly digging a hole with the butt of his longbow and asked "What did he say?" Robin shrugged. Djaq answered for him, muttering, "He says, if you do not let us go, he will kill you." Suddenly the clearing was alive with Robin's laughter. "_That _is not what he said." He turned back to Allan with a grin on his face, shaking his head, amused. "He said _nu salah, _that means pray." He asked the man who had spoken, "Is that what you want to do? Wash and pray? Pray?_ Nu salah?_" Swallow smiled with satisfaction when he nodded and smiled shyly, at least Robin had gotten through to one of them. Robin gestured again with his arm, allowing the prisoners out of the cage. Allan glanced backwards, making eye contact with Swallow and nodding towards the tree line where the Saracens were headed. Looking at him with a confused expression, she jumped about a mile in the air when Will leaned closer and muttered, "Go and wash the blood from your clothes." Loud laughter filled the area as the two men laughed at her jumpiness. Sticking her tongue out at them both, she ran off towards the trees, throwing her bow and quiver to the floor. Her sword shortly followed, hitting the soft soil with a dull thud. "Hey! Don't go unarmed!" Shouted Allan, as she reached the trees and the sound of water could be heard, rushing past rocks as it reached the small lake hidden in the forest. Turning to the group of amused looking men, she brandished her dagger at him with a smirk. "I'm not a fool!" She called back with a cheery wave. Allan returned the wave, "Could' a fooled me." He muttered to the other lads, grinning. Swallow spun in a circle to mock glare at him, with her hands on her hips and tendrils of black hair dancing in the wind. "I heard that!" Yelling loudly, she threw herself from the top of a rock sticking out from the bank of the river and plunged into the icy water.

She emerged from the river a little way downstream and stood for a moment in the sun to dry off. Watching a flash of orange move leisurely through the trees, she decided to follow, knowing that Will would know the way back to the others. Ducking under a branch or two when the need arose, she listened as he approached Djaq and say "Robin needs us to-" When his voice cut off abruptly, Swallow unsheathed her dagger, fearing he had been ambushed. Jumping from behind her tree to fight off her friend's assailant, she burst out laughing as she watched the scene unfold. Djaq stood covering himself with his shirt and Will stood silently; obviously shocked at walking in on him as he changed. The Saracen pushed past them both scowling, "You spy on me!" He shouted angrily. Will looked confused, "What? No! Robin needs us to-" once again he was cut off as a branch hit into him and knocked him to the floor. Stifling her laughter with the sleeve of her tunic, she offered her hand to him and helped him to his feet. He blushed, embarrassed and turned away to brush the leaves from his hair. "Er… Robin needs us back, we're about to start." Swallow nodded and grabbed his lower arm "Come on then!" She laughed as they ran, Will stumbling on every other step. As they neared the cart, slightly breathless and laughing still, Allan handed her weapons to her before wrapping some material across his head in an attempt to disguise himself as a Saracen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Morning's First Light**

_I open my eyes, I try to see,_

_But I'm blinded by the white light._

_I can't remember how,_

_I can't remember why,_

_I'm lying here tonight._

_And I can't stand the pain,_

_And I can't make it go away,_

_No I can't stand the pain!_

Simple Plan - Untitled

As she attached her sword to the leather belt wrapped around her waist, Swallow sat carefully at the top of the hill, making sure not to kick up any dust and give away their hiding place. Not far away sat Much and Robin, watching silently as Brooker rode into the mines. One was chewing his lip with worry and glanced every so often at the man next to him, as if for reassurance. The other sat glaring down at the mines and the two men who were sauntering across to the cart. Judging by the intensity of his look, Swallow wondered whether he was trying to make the mines burst into flame by just sheer willpower.

She shifted uncomfortably as he knees began to cramp beneath her, trying to keep still as they watched the guards pull the Saracens, plus Allan, from the crate. The group all tensed up as they recognised Allan's skinny frame and wonky turban, and she could hear Much's sharp intake of breath as he began to panic. Collectively, the outlaws released the breath they'd been holding in, as Allan was pushed to stand with the others without being questioned. Finally, Djaq was hauled out in front of the sheriff, who duly complained about his lack of muscle. Brooker's voice drifted up to meet them, saying "Aye, but he's full of spirit, m'Lord." Swallow grinned as Djaq spat on the floor in front of the sheriff, an act of insolence. "Spirit? I've seen more spirit on cheese!" The Sheriff eyed him with distaste and then hit him about the head, as if teaching him a lesson. The group all gasped with horror as Djaq was practically thrown to the floor with the sheer force of the blow. Swallow sucked in a breath of hair between her teeth, making a hissing sound as she realised how much it must have hurt the lad.

Away to the right, a hawthorn bush rustled, and a bird called out in warning. Swallow leaned in to look closer as a shadow passed by. Clutching at the nearest person's arm, she pointed towards the young lad as he made his way towards the mine, a large rock in hand. Seconds later, he lay sprawled upon the floor as Robin pinned him down, a hand across his mouth to prevent him from shouting out. Much and Will looked on in surprise as they both tussled on the floor, the boy trying to throw off the older man. "Who are you?" demanded Robin, as he relinquished his hold on the boy's mouth. "I'm Rowan, Son of Dunn and I'm gonna kill Gisbourne!" He announced, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to admit. "No. You are not." Countered Robin. "If you do that now, the mines will stay open and you will have ruined our plan. Not to mention, you will put one of my men's life in danger. So no, you will not kill Gisbourne." Swallow turned away from the two men for a moment, to join John as he kept an eye on the surroundings. The sheriff had just commanded Gisbourne to pay Brooker and was now commanding the slaves to dig up more iron ore. "I can't let 'em get away!" he struggled as they mounted their horses and rode away in a flurry of dust and hoof beats, back to Nottingham and the fair. "If the Sheriff or Gisbourne dead would help Nottingham in any way, I would have killed them long, long ago." Robin said, trying to restrain the boy."But they deserve to die!" he protested, struggling in vain against the strength of the outlaw. "Or you could see them lose everything that is dear to them…" Robin responded, trying to talk the lad out of his rage. He paused in his struggles and looked back at Robin "Like what?" He asked, evidently confused. Robin released him and answered steadily, "The mines. We're going to destroy the mines. If the mines are what gives them power, then we will take that power from them!"

They were all distracted by the sound of a whip cracking behind them, as it seemed as if the guards were now trying to make the Saracens go down into the mines already. Swallow inched forwards on her stomach, using her elbows to move, and settled down to watch as Allan did his part. As the guard propelled him forward to the wooden ladders, he stopped and looked back, making eye contact with the group. Robin nodded at him, giving him the signal to carry on. "No! No! I can't go down there!" He protested wildly, "Gi' me any other job and I'll work twice 'as 'ard, I give you my word!" Swallow looked on, grinning broadly as her new friend succeeded in gaining the guards attention. "You ain't a Turk," he said, confused. Allan shook his head, agreeing with the guard, "Nah. I was a deserter. There were loadsa' us. It was the Turk Flu, it wiped out everyone except me!" Robin chuckled to himself, grinning just as much as the others. "He's right little actor isn't he?" Swallow laughed to the others quietly. "The Turk Flu?" asked the guard, a little dubiously. Without his turban, Allan nodded visibly. "Yeah. We English have no resistance. Foaming. Writhing. Rotting." He paused to cough dramatically, causing the other outlaws to snort with stifled laughter. "One man, he caught it from as close as me and you. Within a minute he was dead, with his brains bubbling outa his nose." The other guards looked disgusted at the thought, but further away, hidden in the shadow of a hawthorn bush, Swallow was using the cuff of her shirt to muffle her laughter. The guard seemed convinced, but apparently wasn't feeling lenient as he handed Allan a crudely carved wooden shovel and said, "Just get to work!"

A few minutes later, he reappeared from inside the mines with the white sleeves of his disguise trailing over his hands, wailing "Lord save me!" The guard who had forced him into the mines, shouted at the others "Quick! Kill him!" and pointed at the Saracen who had followed Allan out of the mine. Allan called out for them not to, claiming, "His blood will poison the air! Please! Kill me instead, cause I can feel it-" as he uttered those last words, the plant he had been steadily chewing for the past five minutes finally kicked in and a thick black liquid began to ooze from his nose and mouth. That seemed to do the trick, as instantly the guards began to run away screaming in terror that they were going to catch the Turk Flu. After that, several things happened at once. Brooker looked as if he was going to make a break for it, but the seemingly _dead _Allan reached up and grabbed a hold of the slave trader's ankle as he tried to run away, causing him to fall to the floor. As the guards fled to Nottingham, Robin led the charge down the sandy bank of the hilltop.

John grabbed a hold of Brooker as Allan wrestled with him to keep him on the floor, nodding in acknowledgement at Robin, as he told him to keep the trader conscious. Allan sat up, shouting "Robin! Robin! Yuck! What is this stuff? It tastes _really _weird!" Swallow reached him, as Robin turned and answered him saying, "Oh, it'll be fine as long as you don't-" It was too late. "-swallow it!" Judging by the look on Allan's face, it was about as nice to eat, as it was to look at Robin began to chastise his friend. "I said don't swallow it! You'll be fine." He said, patting the man on the head as Swallow joined them. "You called?" She asked with a cheeky grin on her face. The leader rolled his eyes at her, in jest and nodded at her, grinning back "Can you get Allan out of the way and- " he turned to address the group, loudly, "Light fires!" Swallow nodded and extended her hand to Allan, helping him to his feet and moving him away from the open mine shafts. "Lay 'em around the beams and inside!" Away in the distance, she saw Will throw his axe towards a wooden beam, hearing the satisfying thud and crunch of splintering wood, she watched as he sped off in search of kindling. Rowan spoke up for the first time since being accosted by Robin. "Let me light 'em. I'll burn the place t' ground!" Much shook his head before throwing himself to the floor, trying to light the pilot fire. "I don't think so!" He said, talking to the boy, before being rebuked by Robin. "No. Let him do it. For his father." His master said, obviously feeling empathy towards the lad. Silently, all three nodded.

John had Brooker in an arm lock, with his staff locking him in place. The boy, Rowan leant against the bars of the cage and Much still sat trying to light the pilot fire. As Allan and Will approached, the latter having shed his white rags and looking relatively normal again, though a bath wouldn't have gone amiss. His clothes were covered in a grey film of dust, which had somehow gotten under the rags and turned his normally green tunic into an undistinguishable mess of brownish grey with a bit of green visible in some places. Brooker protested loudly as Robin relieved him of his hefty moneybag, only recently given to him by Gisbourne. "Can't I at least keep the money?" He complained. Robin turned to him, bearing an expression worthy of her father. He spoke furiously, spitting his words out from between gritted teeth. "You. Are a despicable, heartless, soulless slave trader, lucky to escape with your life." Much looked up from his flint and steel and said, "That's a no." Swallow sniggered quietly. She had really come to like these men, outlaws though they were. Pausing for a second, she realised that she too was now an outlaw and that it would not do to discriminate against them because of what they did. It wasn't just horse thievery, regardless of whether their owner was completely evil or not. They campaigned towards a better England for those less well off. They were fighting for something good. Robin looked back to Brooker and muttered quietly, "Now go!" John looked at his leader completely baffled. "_Go?_" He asked, incredulous that such a horrible man would be allowed to go free after all that had happened.

As the man ran off towards Nottingham, following the path the fleeing soldiers had taken, Robin emptied the contents of the leather bag into his hand and began to count the coins he held there. "Surely you're not going to let him go?" Much asked, looking perplexed. "He's only going to run to Nottingham, and then the Sheriff and Gisbourne are going to get on their horses and ride straight here!" Robin looked up from the money and nodded noncommittally, allowing Much to catch up with himself. "Oh. Oh, I see." He said, slowly understanding why Robin was so eager to get the Sheriff away from Nottingham. "What is it?" Will asked, as he came to a leisurely halt by Swallow. "They come here; he goes off to his fair." Said Much, exasperated with his Master. "Well, you really want that silver arrow don't you Robin?" laughed Swallow. Robin smirked. "Much as it pains me to drag Gisbourne away from his wooing!" He joked. Rowan stood up straight, Robin finally catching his attention. "Gisbourne's _wooing?_" he asked disbelievingly. Robin nodded, and then turned to him in order to answer verbally as well. Yes! _Marian!_" He joked, as if he didn't really believe it himself. He walked away from the boy, leaving him to hover at the sidelines, as if waiting for one of the outlaws to give him a significant job to do.

"Do you remember the road I told you about? Follow it until you reach the abbey then-" Djaq reached his hand out to take the money he offered him "-Mention your name, I know." They spoke inaudibly for a moment, before Djaq said "Gods Speed, Robin" Robin smiled warmly at him, before turning away to address his manservant. "Much? What's going on with the pilot fire?" Much stood up, looking sheepish. "It won't light, Robin." He muttered, in a terrible attempt at defending himself. "I'll do it!" said Swallow and Will in unison. They smiled slightly as they both interrupted each other, Will reddening slightly in embarrassment. As he turned away to grab the steel and flint from his friend, Swallow knelt by the shoddily piled up kindling. Moving some pieces until they left a small empty space underneath, she placed some dry grass underneath, ready for Will to strike the sparks upon. Within minutes it became clear that he was having no such luck. He was certainly creating sparks, but none of them were taking to the tinder and lighting the fire. "Here, let me." She asked as she took the flint from his shaking hands. Smiling up at him brightly, she struck away furiously; creating multitudes of sparks, which, in turn set the grass alight and set the fire blazing away merrily.

They got up and followed Robin, Much and John, catching up with Allan who was walking a little way behind them, to hear Robin joke "Well, I think we deserve an outing to Nottingham, after such a smooth and successful operation!" as John nodded in agreement, he continued "In fact, apart from Allan's ingestion of a certain plant root-" The other man asked, almost sounding worried, "Er, yeah, which'll do what to me exactly?" Swallow winked at him, exchanging a grin with Will as she did so. Finally, Robin added "I'd say today wasn't going too bad at all!"

With an almighty crash, the rotten wood underneath Little John's feet gave way, showering years of dust and rotting foliage upon him as he hurtled down the old mine shaft. One by one, they crowded around the gaping hole in the mud, screaming themselves hoarse as they tried to get an answer from John, who must have been knocked out by a falling plank of wood. Rowan ran up to the group demanding to know when they were going to burn the mines, either oblivious to the fact that one of Robin's men had just fallen down a mine shaft, or just completely unaware of the fact that they would have to get John out before thinking of doing anything else. "Hold our tongue Rowan!" Swallow shouted, desperately trying to think of something she could do to help. Robin added "We must get John out first," After a minute's indecision, he announced to the others "I'm going down there!" Allan looked at his leader, confused "To do what? Get yourself stuck down there with him?" He asked. Swallow thought he had a point. "He could be bleeding to death!" he shouted, begin to sound panicked. Swallow looked to Allan and Will, who both seemed calm, but their leader's behaviour was doing nothing to help poor Much to stay calm. "Maybe he just can't breathe properly?" spoke Will, craning his neck to try and see further into the dusty chasm. "So he suffocates! Would that suit you better?" Robin retorted. Much looked, if it were even possible, even more panicked at his friend's remark. Swallow took a deep breath, if Allan and Will weren't going to say anything constructive, then she would.

"Robin, you can't possibly go down there to lift John up. We aren't strong enough to lift the both of you back up." The outlaw looked up at her, distraught at the thought of leaving his friend alone down there. "I'll go. I have an idea." She said, convinced it would work. "No I will! You need someone small!" protested Djaq. Robin examined both of the volunteers for a moment, before shaking his head "No, thank you both, but you'd never be able to lift him on your own." He said finally. A chorus of protests met his decision.

"I don't plan to lift him on my own!" smirked Swallow, with a grin

"I'll help him lift himself!" said Djaq, then explained further "My father was a physician,"

"Oh, great!" interrupted Allan, "Mine was a blacksmith, that don't mean I can make a horseshoe!" despite the severity of the situation, Swallow snorted with laughter at his sarcastic remark. As she looked away from the outlaws to avoid disgracing herself further, she could have sworn she met another one of those cheeky winks from Allan.

"I'll need silver and water," the Saracen added

"Oh! So now 'e wants paying does 'e?" exclaimed Allan in shock.

"_Traces of silver! _There'll be some amongst the iron. That, mixed with this acid, will stop the bleeding and bring him around" he explained, sending a scathing look towards Allan. With a few choice words in his own language, he sent the other soon-to-be-free slaves searching for the much-needed silver, before Swallow added. "My way's quicker. And easier. We'll be in and out in a minute, which gives us time to light the fires and get away before the sheriff gets here." After a moment, he nodded, running a hand through his hair as she sent Much running for two long pieces of rope, laughing to herself as he ran away chanting "Sorry lord! I will fast for a day and a night if you'll get us out of here alive!" as a sort of mantra

Unsheathing her sword, she ran towards the two cobs who were still stood patiently, waiting for their master to return. As she worked at unhitching them, she wondered if Brooker would return at all for them and speculated as to whether he would even mind if they were gone by the time he got back. She smiled; at least she was able to wreak her own form of revenge on the slave trader. Leading them over to the gang of outlaws, she helped tie the traces on each horse to each rope. Looking down, she noticed that Will had made a loop in the end of each one, there for her to put her feet in as she was lowered into the mine shaft. _Clever._ She mused. She would never have thought of that. "Right then lads, lower me down!" she said, chewing her lip nervously. As she disappeared over the edge of the mineshaft, she could hear, amongst Robin encouraging the horses to walk backwards, Allan once again complaining, saying, "I'm not being funny, but we should have gone after Brooker! He'll have told the sheriff by now!" and amongst that, she could still hear Much praying out loud. His mantra had now extended into "Three days and four nights, not a morsel will cross my lips –just get us out of here!"

Once she was within jumping distance of the floor, she leaped from the rope and leant over John. Luckily, he wasn't still out cold, but was just starting to come around, as she could see his eyelids fluttering every now and again. Dumping the contents of her water canteen on him and slapping him about the face, she shouted at him to wake up, hoping that the quicker he became fully conscious, would mean that they had more chance of escaping the mines. Soon, he was coughing and spluttering as she helped him to put his foot into the loop of rope. Shouting to Robin, who was waiting tensely up at the surface, she waited for them to raise John up to safety, She could hear Robin's shouts as he encouraged the hefty cob to pull the heavy man up, and the straining grunts of the others as they helped the animal pull on the rope. "Get John to safety!" she could hear someone shout, as the ground about her began to shake and loose rocks began to tumble down. Far off, she could hear the sound of hoof beats as the sheriff approached. She knew they were still quite far away, not even within bow range yet, so they still had time. At a shout from Will she clung to the rope as it shot up from the mineshaft at an extraordinary speed. "Hurry!" shouted Robin as it began clear that the soldiers were nearing them and were about to attack.

The Saracens had already fled into the forest and John was thrown across the saddle of the chestnut cob, Much sad behind him, looking worried. "Hurry Master!" He shouted, clearly waiting for Robin to join them before he rode away. Watching as Robin shook his head and turned away from his old friend, Swallow understood why he had his bow in his hands. He was planning on staying, just to see the plan through right to the very end. Drawing her sword, she looked to Will, who was stood next to Allan "Will, Allan, get on the horse and go!" They both looked ready to argue, their eyes flicking towards Robin who had taken a fighting stance and had placed several arrows in the mud before him. "Go!" She shouted, "He can take care of himself!" Allan looked at her, worry etched upon his face, "But what about you m'lady?" She sighed, too tense to joke with him "Just go!" Will nodded, mounting the horse and waiting for Allan, whose lingered a little too long, before he shook his head like a hound covered in water and followed Will's lead.

As the fight began, Swallow watched with fascination, as Robin batted away the soldier's swords with his bow. Parrying a couple of blows from one man, she threw him away from her and watched as his head hit a rock and he slumped, motionless. One of the mineshafts went up in flame, as one of Robin's arrows made its mark, and another in quick succession. An overwhelming surge of soldiers surrounded him and he was separated from his final flaming arrow as he fought off the crowd of men. Swallow was reasonably unthreatened by any of the soldiers, so took her bow from her back and fit the arrow to it. It wasn't exactly the right length, but it still flew towards the final shaft. As the fire grew and she fought her way through the men to reach Robin, she could hear the Sheriff in the far background screaming, "Forget the outlaws! Save the mines!" They fought back to back for a moment longer, as the soldiers began to retreat one by one to start a bucket chain. They were by the edge of the forest when Robin turned and began to taunt the sheriff, by shouting, "_Never_ forget the outlaws!" With his mocking laugh still haunting the sheriff, they turned and disappeared into the trees to find the others.


	10. Chapter 10

**Morning's First Light**

_And I know she's wondering now, like when I'll come around_

_Well, it took a little longer, see, I took the scenic route._

_And she wanted a fairytale love, what you read about._

_Life is too real baby, nothing what you dreamed about!_

_You had to come to grips, that I'm no Prince Charming,_

_Heart on my sleeve and my garment's been tarnished._

_State turns green, blazin' like its autumn._

_More than a metaphor, I had to pay homage._

_I'm just a heartbroken, soft-spoken, marijuana smokin'_

_I'm sorry but I bury all emotion. I'm weary of devotion,_

_I'm a no good excuse for a poet, I'm lonesome_

_Maybe 'cause I'm awesome_

_Maybe cause my baby got me drinkin' like an ocean._

_And lately I been crazy but I'm coasting with this, coping._

_I'm bad at these things; I could use a little coaching_

'_Cause she just heated up, every time I feel frozen._

Vonnegutt featuring Cassadee Pope – When I Come Around (Green Day cover)

As the two wearily stumbled through the forest in search of the rest of the outlaws, Swallow thought to herself about the recent happenings. She was now an ex-noble, just like the man who walked next to her, panting from the exertion. If she was to move on from Nottingham and Sherwood Forest, she could not guarantee that she would go unnoticed. She was of course, now labelled an outlaw and a horse thief on top of it all. If the outlaws ordered her from their camp, then where would she go? And more to the point, would they allow her to take the destrier, Adonis?

As they finally emerged from the endless stretch of tree trunks, and found a path, the sound of murmuring voices directed them towards the rest of the gang. Will stood grinding the trace of silver he had found at the mine, in a makeshift pestle and mortar made by two rocks. Djaq took the silver from him and added it to his vial of acid. "It's witchcraft!" exclaimed Allan, looking shocked. As the entered the little group, Swallow cuffed him around the back of the head and said, "Just because you don't know what it is? Coward!" She grinned as he threw his arms up in defence, "I'm not a coward! I- I just don't like it! It ain't natural!" Robin spoke quietly, but with an air of command as he walked past the two bickering outlaws. "Because you don't know what it is? We made him trust us, now we must do the same for him." Djaq carefully carried the vial over to John and poured the mixture onto the cut on his head. Instantly, purple smoke billowed across his face, enveloping him in a haze of purple. He stumbled out of it, coughing violently, but looking much better.

"I bet Rowan was sorry to miss the fires, eh?" beamed Allan

"Him?" asked Djaq "He's gone to Nottingham to take revenge on his enemy!"

Robin spoke wearily, as if he didn't have the energy to continue running about after people "Why? Gisbourne's here!" Djaq shook his head, disagreeing, and then spoke, sounding entirely unbothered. "Not him! His woman. He's gone to tear out his heart!" Robin looked confused for a moment, pausing to think for a moment "Gisbourne doesn't have a woman!" There was half a second of silence before Swallow cursed loudly. Allan looked mildly surprised that a woman of her stature could utter such a word. "Marian," they said in unison. Swallow sprinted along the path to the horses, untying them quickly and throwing their reins over their heads. Someone had already removed their heavy collars, for which she was thankful, suspecting she was not strong enough to remove them herself. Taking out her dagger, she deftly sliced through the leather of the remaining harnesses, throwing them to the forest floor in a heap. Leaping into the saddle, she cantered towards Robin and handed him the reins of the free horse. She waited impatiently, as he hurriedly told Will and Much to meet them in Nottingham after accompanying Allan and John back to the camp. Then at a curt nod from Robin, they set off at a canter, hoping to reach Nottingham before Rowan did something utterly stupid.

They left the horses at the tree line, in order to avoid any unwanted attention. A flurry of dust some distance away saw the arrival of Will and Much, who were galloping along the road to Nottingham at breakneck speed. A whistle from Swallow caught their attention easily, and Will checked his horse, bending low over its back as it charged under the bough of a tree. One glance at Robin's anxious expression, spurred the others on at a run, along the sandy path to the castle.

As they reached the market place, they huddled together in a small group so as to not get split up. Making sure their hoods suitably covered their faces; they slowly made their way through the crowd of peasants who had gathered at the fair. As all four outlaws, leant nonchalantly against the gateway, trying to avoid drawing attention, Will pointed out someone in the crowd "Look! There he is!" There stood Rowan, his hired longbow aimed straight at Marian. Swallow felt the slightest of movements next to her as Robin's hand brushed hers as he grasped the hilt of his sword anxiously. A second later, he had realised it with a sigh of relief as Rowan lowered his bow and disappeared from view. "He's following Marian! Quick!" exclaimed Robin and the other three dutifully rushed off after him.

They followed behind Marian, watching as she walked along a quiet corridor, devoid of any other people. Rowan followed her, making little sound on the stone floor. As Marian made to turn the corner, he called out to her. "My lady!" as she turned to face him, he continued, "It'll be quick, I'm a good shot." Swallow wondered if he was trying to convince himself more than her. "Your father was killed in the mines wasn't he?" she asked quietly, trying not to allow her voice to betray her fear. Rowan laughed mirthlessly "And how do you know?" he demanded, thrusting his bow further towards her, apparently hoping to scare her further. "It, it is difficult to explain…" She answered reluctantly, glancing away for a moment. "But I know he must have loved you very much to go down into that mine when everyone knew it was so unsafe." Rowan's voice escalated in volume, his expression a mixture of anger and sorrow, of grief. "Your lover knew it was unsafe too!" Marian looked him dead in the eye, still talking calmly "Your father must have known it was too, but he wanted to feed you – and your family!" He looked ready to burst into tears, knowing that she spoke the truth, but something seemed to snap within him as he bellowed "And now he has to know what the pain of loss is like! I'm going to kill you – make him suffer!" Marian flinched, but continued speaking softly, trying to win the lad over. "At the cost of your own life?" she spoke sadly "Your mother will have lost the man of her household twice over in a matter of days! How do you think that will make her feel?" Rowan sobbed once, and Swallow grasped the hilt of her sword, ready to move in with Robin, Will and Much in case the worst happened. "I can't do nothing!" the boy murmured. Marian answered him quickly, as a plan came to mind. "If you want to get back at the Sheriff, then win his silver arrow. Win it and melt it down into coins. Then you can feed your family for months!" Rowan tensed, either about to break down or loose his arrow. "Or would you rather shoot an unarmed woman?" She turned her back and walked to the end of the corridor as Robin stepped out in front of her, a look of anger etched upon his face. He said nothing, only watched as the boy dropped his bow to the floor and cried "Robin, help me!" Marian stormed past him, looking furious. "Well, I suppose it's better late than never!" she spat as she passed by him, "Make sure this one wins the arrow."

They stood waiting by a wooden bench, as Robin took his shot. True to form, it hit the centre of the target, to which many of the spectators began a round of applause. Will leant sideways towards Swallow and muttered "He isn't going to shut up about this for days, you know." Swallow replied with a small nod of the head and a quiet snort of laughter. Much stood silently, pretending he hadn't heard and instead consigned himself to glancing about agitatedly for Robin. Apparently, he had managed to cause some form of trouble, or had been spotted by the sheriff, as he came charging towards them, laughing manically as several guards chased him. The crowd of peasants surged around them momentarily, aiding his escape as he threw himself under the bench and out of the way of the guards. Meanwhile, Rowan was accosted by the guards as they made a grab for the person they assumed to be Robin. Bending down to reach him, Will and Swallow dragged Robin to his feet by the shoulders, as he made sure his cloak suitably covered the outlaw. "That arrow will feed the miners for a whole winter," he grinned satisfactorily as he sauntered away, leaving Rowan to accept the prize of one Silver Arrow. "Come on," grinned Swallow in response, "Lets go!" Robin chuckled slightly and, ruffling Much's hair, they made their way back to the horses.

Upon returning to the camp, they made their way towards the comfiest patch of ground they could find and instantly sat down for a rest. Swallow sighed blissfully as the pressure of the rock behind her back relieved the aches in her body. Suddenly, the peaceful silence was interrupted by Allan, who was sat, wrapped in a blanket and looking very sorry for himself. He sat, twitching occasionally, groaning, and making shouting grunts, which sounded not unlike as if he'd been kicked in the head by a horse. "Him-" said John, whirling his finger around in a circle by his temple "-gone," Robin laughed, his expression finally light hearted again, now that Marian was unharmed. "He'll be fine! Just one day and night of no food and water, an' he'll be fine!" Allan made a sound not dissimilar to the whine of a hound, which everyone took to be a protest at the fast being forced upon him. "That's just as well!" complained Much "Seeing as how little venison is left!" Robin turned to his friend, a look of desperation on his face "Much, I thought you were going to fast as well?" he said, shocked "I thought you wouldn't have forgotten that by now!" Swallow caught on, suddenly remembering Much's mantra earlier on at the mines. "Yeah, Much! I thought you made a promise to God?" Much looked at her, the expression on his face implying he was going to take the hard way about it and be as stubborn as a mule. "Hey! You don't know it was Him who got us out!" he protested. "We might have gotten out anyway, and even so, if it _had_ been Him, wouldn't there have been a sign? There was no sign. So I am going to build a fire, cook some food, and there is nothing any of you can do about it!" He smiled smugly, certain that he had won the argument. Will looked on, amused as he watched Much set up a fire a little way from the group.

Robin smirked slightly as he watched the Saracen boy, Djaq pop up from behind a rock and use that strange piece of glass to shine a beam of light upon the fire Much had built. He shrieked with shock and leapt back from the flames as if they were going to eat him alive. "A sign! A sign from God!" he yelped, pointing at the fire dumbfounded. Swallow and Robin caught each other's eyes and both instantly looked away, to stab at the forest floor with the toe of their boot and a broken twig, anything to avoid bursting out into laughter. Swallow sneaked a glance at Robin, whose mouth was still curved upwards in an attempt to not laugh out loud. "Which means I have to fast…" he said sadly. "Except, God wants me to eat!" he said excitedly, as a dead rabbit landed next to him, as of thrown from the Heavens themselves. A second quickly joined it. "Quite a lot!" He said wondrously, amazed at the contact he had with 'God'. Now John was trying hard not to laugh as he searched the sky for God. "Djaq!" called Robin "Why don't you come and join us?" the Saracen strolled out from behind the boulder and approached the gang. "For good?" he asked. Robin shrugged, and folded his arms across his chest as he answered. "I was thinking just for dinner." Djaq climbed upon the same stone that John was leaning upon and replied, quite cheekily in Swallow's opinion, "Well, I was thinking for good…" Will spoke up tentatively, evidently trying not to offend him "It wouldn't be safe for you…" Robin looked at the young man, evidently confused "For us? Or for him?" Will looked back at Robin and murmured "For _her!_" The reaction was stupendous. Robin grinned widely, and muttered, "I thought as much!" and Swallow burst into laughter, finally understanding the incident by the river and why he was so flustered afterwards. "William! You peeping Tom!" She laughed loudly, slapping him across the chest in jest. He looked shocked for a moment before grinning awkwardly and laughing along with her. John just sat silently, with a look of utter shock upon his face. Swallow couldn't even be sure that he had moved since Will announced Djaq's true identity. "What's your name? Your real name?" Robin asked, still bearing his wide grin. Djaq stood silently for a moment, before divulging the information. "Safia, but-" she gestured "I prefer you call me Djaq." Robin nodded, taking it on board, before kneeling down next to John. "Well, Djaq, I'm sorry, but we don't have a place for you here-" meeting the confused glances of the rest of the gang, he continued. "Swallow here," he gestured, "-has only recently joined us, and we'd rather not recruit any more people." He shrugged apologetically. Djaq, or Safia, nodded in understanding, then turned, saying "Well, I should catch up with the others before they reach the abbey then!" before dashing away at a run, shouting her thanks as she disappeared into the forest. Swallow looked up in confusion, "So when exactly did I join you?" Will, Much and John nodded in agreement, it was of course, the first time any of them had heard such a thing. Allan just groaned and twitched all over again. In fact, Swallow wasn't even sure if he had noticed a thing that had gone on in the past five minutes.

"Well, the thing is," he started, running a hand through his hair and started again "I don't think you'll be safe if you leave us, you'll get caught if you're on your own…" Swallow nodded, _that_ she could understand. She didn't have a clue how to live now that she was in effect, a dead woman. "Well, I suppose that means I don't have to _ask_ if I can stay now," she said with a laugh. Robin smiled, and then turned to the others "Do any of you have a problem with a girl joining us?" Will shook his head frenetically, from side to side much like a sodden dog rids its coat of water. Much shook his head slightly, and then turned back to the smouldering remains of his fire, Allan grunted noncommittally and John opened his mouth to speak, but evidently thought again, remembering that Swallow had saved his life. Robin grinned and clapped his hands, "Right! Now that that's settled," He jumped from the rock and turned to Much "What's for dinner?"

Much sat alone by his fire for a moment or two, before looking to the sky and speaking "If that was Djaq, does that mean I can eat?" He paused for a moment, evidently searching for some sort of sign. After a few moments of silence, he placed a small chunk of venison in his mouth, before spitting it out desperately as thunder rumbled overhead.

"That's a no, Much!" Swallow called out, as the entire camp erupted into laughter, minus Allan who shouted a few unknown sounds into the rapidly approaching darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

**Morning's First Light**

_I feel like dancing tonight_

_I'm gonna party like its my civil right_

_Everybody get kinda awesome!_

_It doesn't matter where,_

_I don't care if people star_

_Cause I feel like dancin' tonight!_

All Time Low – I Feel Like Dancin'

The next morning, Swallow awoke to a torrential downpour of rain. The others were sat, leaning against tree trunks with their hoods pulled low over their heads. They sat in sullen silence, chewing on sodden bits of stale bread and huddled further into their cloaks as the wind blew furiously, bending the tops of the trees. The timber groaned and resisted the strength of the gale, their roots digging in deep. As Swallow stood up and shook out her blanket, drenched by the onslaught of rain, she wandered closer to the others. Slumping next to an unidentified person, huddled inside his hood so far she couldn't tell whom it was, she sighed "No fire then?" He shook his head from side to side, and then yawned loudly. The rain seemed to let up for a moment, just long enough for Robin, Much and Allan to relieve their heads of the heavy hoods, and grin, jubilant that the downpour had ceased, until it returned with twice as much strength as it had before. They slumped to the floor and groaned as they replaced their hoods. Much grumbled, "If it'd just let up for an hour or so, I could lay a fire and we could have something to eat!"

She rolled her eyes; it was raining cats and dogs; yet Much was complaining about the lack of food! "Hey Much?" she said teasingly "Bet I can out complain you!" Allan laughed from somewhere deep within the recesses of his hood, and called out "I wager an 'a'penny!" Much spluttered in protest, struggling to find words for his indignation "I hardly think you're in a position to make bets, Allan!" They rolled their eyes at him, ignoring his outburst and scrambled forward to shake hands on their bet. Several minutes passed in silence, broken only by the whistling of the wind through the treetops, the horses shifting impatiently and the occasional rustling of clothing as one of the outlaws shifted their positions. After a moment, Swallow spoke again, taking care to make her voice sound indifferent. "I'm cold." Robin spluttered with laughter, but managed to disguise it as a cough in time as Much glared at him. She could tell Allan was grinning under his hood and felt the vibration as Will chuckled silently next to her. No one spoke. "Much?" she asked, trying not to break out in laughter as she caught a glimpse of Robin's grin. Much made a queer sort of grunting noise, which she took to be in recognition of her speaking to him "It's raining. Make it stop!" Robin glanced away, fighting back the laughter, his hood thrown back. Much sat silently, evidently trying to ignore the others, as Allan made no attempt to hide his amusement. Swallow opened her mouth once more, but was cut off by Much "Alright! You win!" He said, as money exchanged hands "Just so you know," he added "You were always going to win anyway!" Swallow winked at Allan and continued teasing Much. "Oh. So you've given up complaining then?" Much huffed and folded his arms, looking entirely unamused as they settled down to wait for the rain to stop.

She stared, shivering, into the red-hot coals of the fire, as it drew away the cold and the dampness of her clothes. Much was fussily preparing breakfast, the last of the bread and cheese, washed down with mead. Swallow wondered why he hadn't just handed out the food before, in the incessant downpour of the rain, instead of insisting they wait for dryer weather. Suddenly it occurred to her – they had been waiting to light a fire and have some decent warm food, only, they had eaten the last of the venison last night. Allan seemed to have the same idea. "Hey Much! I'm not bein' funny, but, we don't have any food left!" he said "What are we gonna do? Sit around and wait until we starve to death?" Much coughed, trying to avoid answering the question. Luckily, Allan was distracted by the arrival of Robin leaping onto the rock next to him. "Aha!" The outlaw called out "That's where you come into this!" he said, speaking to Allan, "What me?" he asked, seemingly confused about his existence. Robin grinned with laughter, before jumping to forest floor and facing the others "Yes, Allan, you." He gestured to Swallow, "and Swallow," Her head jerked up at the mention of her name and, knowing he had captured her attention, he smiled slightly before continuing – this time addressing both of them. "You'll ride up to the Long Stone and bring back some supplies-" Looking at the jubilant grin on Allan's face he back tracked slightly "_Not_ everything. Just enough for a week, and-" he added, beginning to look slightly anxious about sending Allan after the supplies "Don't bring back too much ale." Allan nodded eagerly, before indicating she join him by the horses. "In fact!" Robin shouted after him "Swallow – keep him away from the ale!"

Swallow wandered over to the horses, still slightly uncomfortable in her wet clothes – more so now that sitting by the fire had just warmed them up. Allan had busied himself tacking up his mare, handing her Adonis' reins as she approached. Robin had settled down to sharpen the blade of his sword, but glanced up as they mounted and moved out, the horse's hooves catching against rocks as they walked. "Allan!" He called, waving to get their attention. Allan halted his mare, half turning her back towards the camp in case Robin wanted them to come back. Leaping from her back, he jogged back to their leader. Swallow leant down and patted the chestnut as she dropped her head to pull up a clump of grass. She waited for a moment, listening to the sound of the horse chewing contentedly before movement behind her, and the nickering of a second horse brought her back to her senses. Allan was back beside her, mounting his horse with only one hand. "Robin wants us to take these two away," he said, indicating the two cobs they had freed from Brooker's clutches. Finally, they were away, trotting through the forest and talking animatedly, Allan telling her stories of the gang, explaining what had happened before she had become part of the group. They paused in their riding as they stopped to water the horses at various streams and let them eat at patches of grass, so Allan continued his story. "So Robin saved me and Will's life and that's how we started bein' outlaws wi' him." She sat silently, admiring their daring escape, riding down a whole section of the Sheriff's archers as they tried to shoot at them.

They emerged from the forest into a large patch of foxgloves, which towered well over their heads. The fresh green leaves quickly distracted the horses and they had to struggle with them in order to ride on further out of the flowers, which were intermingled with stinging nettles and brambles. Swallow rode in front, hoping to coax the others to follow Adonis and could just hear Allan cursing them as his own horse refused to move forward whilst the two cobs proceeded to pull his arms out of their sockets in their attempts to keep up with the lead horse. Laughing at the comical scene, she hopped off of the saddle and released Allan of one of the horses saying, "I don't know why you didn't just let me lead one in the first place!" He replied with a grumble, whilst massaging his shoulders in pain.

Leaving the shadows cast by the enormous trees, Swallow gasped with amazement at the meadows before her. They were lost amongst the tall, waving grass, upon which several horses were contentedly cropping amongst a cow or two and some sheep. At one end, hidden in the shadow of a great oak tree sat a little stone house with a thatched roof. Smoke rose from the chimney and a wizened old man with grey hair sat on a wooden chair outside, watching as the two approached, whilst he puffed cheerily on a wooden pipe.

"The old man is a hermit." Allan told her in a low voice. "We give him food and check in on him from time to time, see if there's owt he needs doing," Swallow nodded in understanding, a smile gracing her lips – most people would avoid a man such as this – one who lives alone, away from civilisation, shunned for fear of catching insanity. "Does anyone else come up here? What about the sheriff?" She asked, suddenly worried they might be ambushed and captured. She cursed, realising she had left her sword back at the camp. Allan shook his head briefly, "Nah. No one comes up 'ere. Not even the villagers. The old man lives on his own – grows his own food, butchers his own animals. We bring him flour and stuff, in return for him looking after our horses. Robin reckons he can use these two-" he indicated the two cobs, who were straining to reach the other horses "-to plough his vegetable plot instead of doing it by hand."

They rode away, happy in knowing that the old man now had some healing salves and other necessities he had been unable to procure himself. Allan had stored the horses' tack in a shed behind the stone house and had turned them out with the others. When Swallow had asked why they didn't just give them to the peasants to use, Allan had answered as if it were obvious. "Because we might need these horses in the future – we can't just go chasing them about Nottinghamshire!" He added after a moment's silence "It's safer here as well. Robin reckons if we give 'em to the villagers, then Gisbourne'll torture them for horse thievery." She remained silent, thinking about the story he had told her earlier, about the way the Sheriff and Gisbourne had cut out the tongues of innocent villagers in order to find out where Robin was hiding. Eventually, Robin had handed himself in willingly, rather than watch those people lose their tongues, but it still showed Gisbourne's true colours. "Come on!" Allan shouted, jerking her out of her thoughts. "Race you!" She laughed, exhilarated, as Allan jabbed his heels into the mare's stomach and she leapt forward at a canter. They had gotten halfway across the meadow before Swallow leant forward in the saddle and nudged Adonis into a canter. He began to pull at the bit, eager to catch up with Allan and the mare, so she gave him his head, shouting with glee as she felt his stride increase and they flew past Allan at a flat out gallop. They waited by the forest edge for him to catch up, the mare sweating furiously as she came to a halt by the destrier. "I think you win." He winked as they made their way to the Long Stone.

They returned, just short of an hour later, the horses laden with bread, cheese, meat and the all-important ale – which Swallow had refused to allow Allan anywhere near for fear of him drinking it all. The ride there and back had completely dried them out, the clouds had eventually shifted, allowing the sunshine to glare down on them. The rest of the gang were sat much the same as they had been before they had left, but leapt to their feet as the horses ambled into the clearing, coming over to help unload them of their burden.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N** I'm SO sorry guys, its taken me this long to realise I'd missed out a chapter :/ So here, you go - an update thats not really an update - but at least you'll understand what will soon become chapter 13 now!

* * *

**Morning's First Light**

I feel irrational  
So confrontational  
To tell the truth I am  
Getting away with murder  
It isn't possible  
To never tell the truth  
But the reality is I'm getting away with murder

Papa Roach – Getting Away With Murder

Robin and Much had gone to Nottingham, to try and get hold of some decent meat. They had heard rumours that the people of Locksley village had caught some sort of sickness after eating meat bought from a certain butcher, many suspected it was rotten when they had bought it, but the butcher had dyed it red so as to avoid raising suspicion. Whilst they were gone, the others had done the rounds amongst the villages, handing out food and money where it was needed.

They were on their way back to the camp, walking along a well-used path through the forest when they heard the sound of a cart approaching. John planted his staff in the mud before him, as the others hurriedly fit arrows to their bows; Swallow drew her sword and stood casually by the side of the group. Rounding the corner trotted a dark bay horse, its neck arched proudly as it moved. Once they reached the blockade, and Allan loosed his arrow, the cart came to a halt suddenly. The man driving it sat upon a wooden bench, no higher than the horse's hindquarters. A boy sat next to him, perhaps his son, though neither of them appeared to have any similar features. Once they realised they had been caught by a band of outlaws, their expressions became apprehensive.

"I'm just a poor farmer, I'm going to Nottingham to sell some goats milk." He said, glancing fearfully at the boy next to him. Swallow wandered forward, examining the goat perched on top of the heap of straw in the cart. "You won't make much," she observed, strolling casually to rejoin the group. The farmer shook his head, agreeing with her "No, not much" he agreed "Just enough to feed the orphan lad and myself." Swallow shook her head, "You won't make anything," she continued, indicating the animal with her sword "This is a male goat." Allan smirked as she pointed this out; he moved opposite her to rummage through the straw. "Well, Well!" He laughed aloud, "Poverty ain't what it used to be!" he said sarcastically, uncovering several pieces of expensive cloth, bearing a coat of arms unknown to Swallow. "That's a family heirloom," claimed the man, looking fairly uncomfortable under the gaze of the four outlaws. "Liars. We do not like," exclaimed John, as he raised his staff to shoulder height, threatening the impostors. On the other side of the cart, Swallow had found a heavy leather bound book, embellished with some ornate carvings. "Hey! What's this?" she asked. Instantly the man revoked from his apparently fake voice and spoke like a noble "That is Crown property and I am ordering you to put it back." He commanded. Allan winked at Swallow, amused by his outburst "Ooh! He speaks proper for a farmer, don't he?" Will left the side of the mare and stood next to Swallow, before pulling out the arrow from the wood. As he passed it over the cart to Allan, he spoke suspiciously "Sounds more like a taxman to me…" John looked up at the cart driver as he began to protest, "Look, it isn't too late for us to just forget all this happened and for us to just be on our way!" John growled and lifted the man from the cart by the neck. "Too late for you." He muttered, as the young boy cried aloud, evidently fearful for his companion "Please sir, don't!"

They had settled down to wait for Robin and Much to return, so they could decide what to do with the taxman. Swallow had leant her bow and quiver against the trunk of a tree, as John forced the two men to sit on the floor under the watchful eyes of Allan and Will. Soon after, they meandered into the clearing, Robin calling out, "So, what've we got?" as soon as he noticed the captives. Much followed after him, lugging a large hog's head along with him. They were covered in potato peelings and smelled as if they'd been hiding in a pile of manure for a week. "Tax Collector." said John, glaring at them as if they had done him great personal harm. Swallow handed him the ledger as he passed by, chuckling proudly at the catch they had made whilst he was away. "Very good…" he murmured in praise, as the taxman protested against the term they had named him after. "At least get your facts straight. I am a Tax Inspector." He said pompously, as Much scoffed at him as he removed his cloak and threw it to the floor. "How can you be so proud?"

Robin crouched by the tax inspector's side. "This is not Taxation," He said, after examining the amount of tax received that year. "This is _Extortion._" He muttered furiously, indicating some of the writing in the ledger, before adding "These markings. They mean something." He said, obviously trying to extract information about the money. The inspector continued, rambling about how he merely counted the wealth of England and didn't judge it. "This is 1192 my friend, this is not the time for heroes! It is now the time for bookkeeping!" After Robin repeated the question about the markings, he sat silently for a moment before practically snarling in the outlaws face. "I will not divulge State information." Swallow stood up from where she ha been leaning against a tree and spoke directly to the tax inspector, ignoring the presence of her friends. "If it is the time of bookkeeping, then you'll be out of a job soon, _my friend_" she muttered nastily, mocking the way he had referred to Robin as his friend. "Because with the way your lot extort money from the innocent people of this country," He opened his mouth as if to protest at the way she had inferred he was a tax collector, but was cut off by a simple hand signal from her. "Then there will be nobody left to tax – _you will have thrown them out on the streets to starve like a mongrel._" Stepping back from him and calmly returning to her seat, she could see Allan and Robin barely manage to contain grins of approval, as John stood, looking dumbfounded. Glancing to her left, she saw Will standing silently; staring furiously at the man.

Robin sighed in response to the man's last answer, and nodded to John, who threw his heavy oaken staff about his neck, leaning backwards so that his entire weight was pressed against his throat; John's attempt at scaring him into talking. The boy, who had been sat in silence, shouted out "Put him down! My father has a weak heart!" Allan distracted the lad, saying "A word of advice mate, you be nice to little John!" Robin gestured to John, who placed the older man back on the floor. "Your father?" he asked, slightly sceptical. When the boy nodded, Robin responded by repeating the question to his father. "What state secrets?" he asked, before nodding at John a second time, when he refused to answer. John stepped forward and forcibly moved the boy, dragging him out of sight of his father. The threat of danger to the boy's life seemed to loosen his tongue, and he spoke sullenly, "If I tell you now, how do I know you aren't just going to kill us anyway?" he asked, as the outlaws made themselves more comfortable. Robin was sat on the forest floor in front of the man he was questioning, Allan was keeping watch over the boy, who had been lashed to a tree and John hovered between the two, trying to keep tabs on both of them at the same time. Swallow and Will sat some distance away, perched on the damp wood of a log. Robin sniggered humourlessly and answered him "You don't."

"Well that's not much of a deal then, is it?" he retorted rudely.

"Aah yes, but in the real world things don't always add up," countered Robin as he stood up and made as if to move away from the tax inspector. "Oh, very original" he muttered as he walked away. Evidently he didn't mean for Robin to hear, but Swallow did. "It's true though." She said, fighting Robin's corner for him.

He sighed, realising he had been beaten, and reluctantly spoke to Robin, as he turned to face him. "The taxes for the entire North of England are being held at Nottingham." The others had gathered closer by now, listening in earnest. Will stood up slowly, hardly able to believe his ears. His face still held a solemn expression, but it was clear in Swallow's eyes, he was interested. She looked to Allan, then Much, noticing that both held the same look of curiosity, weighing up the pros and cons of going after the money. Robin returned to his place by the captive mans feet and resumed questioning him. "All of it?" A quick glance towards the boy showed that he was hitting his head against the trunk of the tree, looking both frustrated and dismayed that his father had given them the information. The inspector nodded, saying, "The Sheriff has the prince's trust." The boy closed his eyes, looking as if he wished it was all just a dream. "He's been annual tax collector for three years running." Will spoke up, sounding dazed. "It's true. I used to have to help my father making extra strongboxes this time of year…" Robin glanced to the young man, nodding thoughtfully as he took the new information on board. The taxman interrupted him "In case you have any ideas, you won't get hold of it, Prince John has sent a unit of his army to protect the money." Swallow spoke up, "Instead sending his army to protect the money why doesn't he send it where it's bloody well needed?" She exploded, frustrated at the state of the country. "My cousin _died_ fighting in the Crusades because we don't have enough men to fight the Turk!"

Will looked at her sympathetically before they all trained their attention back on Robin who had just asked the man "And they don't protect you?" The taxman shook his head, speaking scathingly "I don't move the money, I just count it…" Allan looked away, thoughtful, whilst Much glanced agonizingly at Robin. ""Good…"He murmured to himself as he wandered away from the tax inspector for a moment, before looking back at the gang, a glint in his eye which hadn't been there before. "Master…" warned Much, as his face suddenly expanded into a beam of excitement. "No! Surely…" Allan looked at him warily, for once, agreeing with Much, "Robin," he warned, shaking his head as he tried to dissuade the man from the plan he already had formulating deep within his head. "The castle is as tight as leeches lips Robin, we can't get in," he said though he directed his speech towards the others as well as Robin. Swallow shuddered, remembering the time she had unwittingly waded into a stream full of leeches. Trying to block out the images of the rivulets of blood running down her legs as she'd forcibly removed them, she began to tease him "You're scared," laughing at the serious expression on his face. "Well, yeah!" he admitted, not in the least bit embarrassed, "I mean, it's dangerous!" Looking at the less than convinced expression on her face, he continued, "I've hung from a rope there! Not funny, le' me tell you…"

She sobered up slightly, remembering the story he had told her as they made their way to the Long Stone the previous day. She opened her mouth, about to try and persuade Allan, but was interrupted by Will. "I want that money." He said "I want that money before it gets to London. Do you think taxes pay for themselves? People sweat for them! They give their lives for them." He looked downcast, "And when they save up every little penny they have left, they can't even afford a decent piece of meat…" Swallow nodded in agreement, the people needed that money more than the nobles or Prince John could ever need it. "See, Allan?" She grinned, "Don't be such a coward – it's for the greater good!" Allan sniggered and shook his head, waiting for Robin to have the final word "My friend here, lost his mother," said Robin, looking at Will compassionately. The tax inspector looked at him stubbornly, "Well that's not my fault is it?" he replied rudely. Swallow gasped, disgusted with the man. _Could he not even offer his condolences?_ Will looked over at her, smiling sadly as she glared at the man, balling up her fists in an attempt to keep her anger under control. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he drew her back to stand next to him, whispering, "He's not worth it." She nodded, but continued to glower at him. Allan cried aloud, "You're part of the system. You helped cause it! That's bad enough!" in defence of his friend. John grabbed hold of his shoulder and growled threateningly at him. "Taxes. We do not like." He spat.

"It's one of our real pet hates," added Robin,

"We're giving that money back to the people who need it the most." murmured Will quietly. Swallow smirked at the bewildered man "The people who _deserve_ it." she finished.

"Where in the castle?" demanded Robin, reverting to his brisk 'business' voice. The tax inspector sighed, and then answered without a moment's hesitation. "The vault. But you'll never get in. Maximum security."

Robin nodded, simultaneously agreeing with him "No, you're right." He said. "We wouldn't get in…" Much once again, spoke up, apparently glad they wouldn't have to try and infiltrate the castle. "Well I must admit, I am glad." He began "I mean, it really would be lovely to give all those people their money back, I just think that it-" "Shut up Much." muttered both Allan and Swallow, allowing Robin to continue speaking. "We wouldn't get in, but you would…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Morning's First Light**

_I've got troubled thoughts_

_And the self esteem to match,_

_What a catch, what a catch._

_You'll never catch us_

_So just let me be_

_Said I'll be fine till the hospital,_

_Or the American Embassy._

Fall Out Boy – What a Catch, Donnie.

Will had been the one who'd volunteered to take the place of Flaxton's son. He had donned the livery belonging to the tax inspector, and took up a large oaken staff. He walked by the side of the dark bay mare, which had been saddled specifically for the man. They clattered through Nottingham's market place and were halted by a soldier, who had asked if they would be staying long. The inspector had answered, somewhat dryly, "Depending on how much money you have for me to count." The soldier had nodded and took hold of the bridle, steadying the horse so that Flaxton could dismount safely. Glancing curiously at Will, he had exclaimed "That's never your same son, Fredrik?" Will spoke up grimly, correcting the man, whilst making sure his face was not too visible. "Cedric" he said, "My name's Cedric." The soldier nodded, seemingly unbothered by the simple mistake he had made. "I'll get you an escort," he muttered, disappearing off towards the barracks.

The others had accompanied Will and Flaxton to the forest edge, and had then slipped through the beggar's camp outside the castle's gates. It was there that they realised they could not slip past the guards, as they kept a close watch on who passed through into Nottingham. They hid behind a ramshackle shelter, Robin, Allan, Swallow and Much, hoping to make a break for it when the guards were preoccupied with something else. Hearing the sound of approaching hooves, Swallow peered around the jagged wood to see who was advancing towards them. A tall grey horse slowed to a walk as they reached the bridge to the castle, the Lady Marian looking upon the homeless with an expression of pity. Swallow nudged Robin, getting his attention, as Marian glanced in their general direction. He jerked his head, signalling that she should go on ahead, and ride into Nottingham, but she ignored him and dismounted in full view of the guards. Swallow's hand tightened momentarily upon the hilt of her sword, thinking that they were sure to be spotted by the guards if she was to come forward and converse with them. With a sigh of relief, she released her grip as Marian produced a small leather purse from within her dress. Tipping the coins out onto her hand, she extended them towards the beggars, apparently hoping to share them out equally. They crowded around her, grabbing and snatching in their desperation to get just a few coins, enough to buy a small loaf of bread perhaps. As they surrounded her, she cried out, distracting the guards from their posts. They rushed towards her and separated the crowd, saying, "My lady, you shouldn't give to them!" giving the outlaws the perfect chance to get inside the castle walls.

Robin and Much had hidden behind an empty market stall. They watched as the tax inspector and Will, masquerading as his son, were surrounded by their escort and shown into the castle. A few yards away, stood Allan, waiting in a doorway with Swallow, watching as Marian slowly approached on horseback. "Impressive." Muttered Robin, clearly thankful for her distraction "Thankyou," he added, shading his eyes against the sun. "Seeing as you owe me one, can we talk?" she replied quietly as her horse shifted slightly. Much stepped forward, "No! Master! Our plan!" he cried aloud, anxious to carry on. Robin sighed, torn between following Will and talking to Marian. "One minute." He sighed, and rounded a corner into an empty alleyway, leaving Much to stand alone, looking bewildered. "What plan?" asked Marian, seeming curious. "You'll find out soon enough," replied Robin, careful not to give anything away. From the doorstep she was perched on with Allan, Swallow saw him lean against his bow and mutter to Marian "You have a problem?" She sighed, and replied in an impatient tone, "More than I can say in one minute…" Her voice slowly drifted away, carried away on the wind, but Swallow could tell she was frustrated about something. As they waited, Allan told her of Marian's secret identity as the Night Watchman, and the way she delivered parcels of food and money – much like they did. Instantly her respect for the woman rose, she had the braveness to aid the less fortunate whilst still living as a Lady – something Swallow had never been able to do. Much sidled up to the alleyway, hissing urgently for Robin to join them and carry on with their plan. Their leader sighed, but complied, knowing it wasn't safe to leave Will unguarded for too long. Swallow and Allan wandered over, occasionally pausing to examine the wares of one or two of the very few market stalls. They made sure not to walk directly towards Much and Robin, in order to keep their rendezvous with Marian secret. As they approached, Robin turned to meet them, saying "We will talk about this later," but Marian spoke back evenly, barely disguising the steely tone her voice had taken. "Too late. I've already made up my mind."

They waited by an opening to the sewers, Swallow trying desperately not to complain about the smell. Robin and Much were stood upon the wooden edge of the opening, balancing as they waited for someone to open the entrance and dispose of the kitchen leftovers. Allan and Swallow stood below them, glancing around for any unwelcome guards patrolling the area. She jumped as they hauled the unwitting kitchen boy out of the small tunnel and threw him into the pit below, to wallow in the filth he'd just thrown out. Seconds after, Robin had hauled himself through the tiny gap, paying no attention as Allan leant over the cavernous gap to watch the servant land in the sewers. Seconds after, Much followed Robin, leaving Swallow and Allan at the other end. Tentatively, she climbed up after them, gulping as she looked down into the blackness of the pit below. She focussed on the hole in front of her and stuck her head through, determined to block out her fear of falling into the darkness. At one end, Will took hold of her and hoisted her through, letting go only to heave Allan through a moment after. She sat against the wall, breathing heavily with her eyes closed as the others regrouped. "Not being funny," panted Allan, looking slightly concerned, "but you look like you're going to be sick…" The others nodded, barely paying attention, but Swallow stood up, shaking her head. "Nah, m'fine. Heights." She offered, by way of an explanation. Will grasped her shoulder in an attempt to cheer her up and she smiled weakly, before following the others through the castle.

As they neared the vault, they reached a locked door, which though a formidable obstacle, had they Little John with them, he would have burst through it in no time at all. Unfortunately, he had stayed back at camp to make sure Cedric remained tied to the tree securely, so, they had to think of another way to get through it. Finally Swallow had an idea, shoving past Allan who had ever so thoughtfully blocked the way to the door in his pathetic attempt to pick the lock. Listening carefully at the door, she could hear the murmured voices of the guards stationed in that room. Tapping gently on the door, she called out demurely, emulating the voice of the serving girl, Annie, "Food!"

As she heard the rush of feet stampeding towards the door and the turning of the lock in the key, she winked cheekily at the others, drawing her sword. As soon as the door was opened, just a crack, she threw all her weight against it, knocking the first guard out cold as his head made contact with the heavy oaken door. Robin rushed in after her, helping her to fight back the guard. After the initial scuffle was over, Flaxton entered the room, followed by Allan, sword in one hand and bow in the other. "Now, I've played my part… what about my son?" he demanded, brazenly standing up to Robin. He barked out a single word, in a commanding tone, evidently hoping "Wait." would make him shut up, at least for the moment. When the tax inspector appeared to ignore him, continuing, "I need to know he is safe!" Swallow lost her temper; knowing that the longer he held them up with mindless drivel about his son, there was more chance they would be caught by the Sheriff or his guards. Shouting, "Enough!" She shoved him away from Robin, pausing only to see him crash to the floor in a daze. They walked past him, entering the vault, Allan looking displeased with his behaviour. It was then that Swallow realised they had made a mistake. It was too late for one of them stay outside in case of an emergency, she realised, as the door crashed shut and they were trapped.

Will and Swallow both ran against the door, shouting as it slammed. "Hey! No!" they spent a few more moments hitting the door in a futile attempt to escape. Allan opened a nearby chest, as Robin said, "You're wasting your time. We've been tricked!" A thud on the opposite side of the room echoed slightly as Will checked inside another wooden strongbox. Part of Swallow wondered if these were the chests he had helped his father to make, as he looked up, his expression morose. She felt the fury building up inside her, at the way they had been tricked and left in this tiny room, knowing they would soon hang as soon as Flaxton took the news to the Sheriff. Screaming wordlessly, she launched herself at the door, trying to break it down, by repeatedly barging it. Will grabbed her as she clawed at the cracks between door and wall, moving her away and trying to calm her down "No! I won't let you all die here today!" She shouted, trying to wrest her way from his grasp. Allan crouched down in front of her, trying to calm her down, glancing at Robin who was pacing the room, frantically trying to think of a way of getting out. "But its true! The taxes do come to the castle! Every year, at this time!" protested Will, still holding Swallow, who was no longer thrashing about in blind panic.

Finally Robin spoke. "That's what makes it all the more clever." He muttered "An ounce of truth, that's why it makes it so hard to pick out the lie…" Will kicked out at one of the chests, frustrated, "I helped make these chests!" he sat upon one of them, raising his hands to brush his black fringe from his face. "I still think we shouldn't have come here, Robin!" shouted Allan, shaking his head. Swallow felt a little guilty at that, if it weren't for her outburst, the others would still be calm, and not shouting at each other. Robin stopped Allan in his tracks saying, "Shh!" and indicated he was trying to think. After a moments silence, Allan retaliated with a simple. "We're going to hang now…" After hearing someone else speak aloud what she had suspected all along, she leant her head back against the wall of the room and let the tears roll down her face unchecked. _She'd doomed them all, simply because she hadn't waited outside._

"We are not going to hang!" stated Robin, sounding a little more confident than he looked. Much looked bewildered, hardly able to take in what had happened. "Well, Master, what do we do?" he asked, sounding on the verge of tears. Robin half leant against the stone wall, head bowed in thought. "I have a plan," he announced wearily. Allan turned to him, "No you don't." he stated simply, knowing full well their leader had no idea how he was going to get them all out alive. "You're right." He sighed, despairingly, "I don't." Beside Swallow, Will fidgeted a little, then looked up, thoughtful. "I have one." He announced proudly as Swallow met his eyes, a gleam of hope reflected in them. The others looked to him, disbelieving. He reached between his legs, to the iron padlock on one of the chests and examined it thoughtfully, before taking out one of his axes with a flourish. They watched on as he hacked a small piece of wood from the lid of another chest. "We weren't allowed to fit the locks for these chests," he said, as he carved away at the wood, making a crude key shape. "They had to be as good as the castle locks." He tried the key against the lock on the chest he was sat on, then removed it and carved it some more. "Which means?" asked Allan, eager to know the relevance of Will's story. "It means," Will muttered, as he tried the lock again. "They just might have been made by the same locksmith!" Much jiggled from foot to foot and dashed forwards to face Will. "Look, I don't suppose there's any use telling you to hurry up is there?" he asked desperately, evidently worried the sheriff was on his way down already. "Nope," said Will, carrying on carving the piece of wood, with his head down.

A moment later, he tried the makeshift key again, and grinned slightly, when they heard a soft click; the key had worked. Pulling it from the lock, he held it up, showing it to the group. Robin nodded appreciatively as he ran to the door with it, Swallow pushing herself to her feet in awe. As he fit the key to the lock in the door, the group all drew breath, hoping the key worked, and readied their weapons. The mechanisms in the door clunked as it was unlocked, and at a second nod from Robin, Will thrust open the door, allowing the other outlaws to charge out of the vault, roaring and brandishing their swords. Only one guard had recovered, and Allan quickly floored him, pushing him to the floor in his eagerness to escape. As they escaped the small room and made their way into the wider hallways, and the air became more breathable, they grinned elatedly. She reached up and patted her much taller friend on the shoulder, wordlessly saying thankyou as they followed the others outside.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry for the wait everyone! I'd like to say that there'll be an update soon for the other two, but, by now I think you all know exactly what I'm like. But still, it's my birthday on Saturday - don't be mad D:**

* * *

**Morning's First Light**

_You be the Princess, I'll be the Dragon_

_I wanna take you to the ball in a Pumpkin Carriage,_

_You be Alice, I'll be the Mad Hatter,_

_You make a shit tea, _

_But it don't matter._

_You be Humpty, I'll be the wall,_

_I'll pick up the pieces though I told you, you'd fall._

Untouchable – James Elmer

Their relief was quickly shot down, as they heard the Sheriff and his men approaching. Quietly, they made their way towards the steps, hoping to escape the castle before they were noticed. Too late. "Guards! Get them!" echoed the cry, as they all drew their swords, Swallow bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation for the coming fight. Allan clapped his hand on her shoulder, smiling fondly at her, before moving into a fighting stance. Robin vaulted over the wall, to head off the Sheriff and his guards, kicking the first man back down the steps and tripping up a few more. Will ran to meet two other guards head on, Much in tow. The blond haired man kicked a guard viciously in the stomach as he stumbled back to his feet. Swallow turned in the opposite direction, to face the guards rapidly approaching her. Allan had disappeared from her side, and she had to face them alone. Bending her knees and putting all her feet into her feet, she leapt up high, her hands nimbly grabbing hold of the wooden beam above her head. Her feet continued moving, carried by the momentum, and smashed right into his head. He dropped to the floor, his helmet causing a sickening clang as it clattered on the stone.

She risked a glance at the others, and almost dropped her sword in shock. The Sheriff had entered the fray unbeknownst to the others. The others were otherwise occupied keeping back several guards of their own, so it was up to her. With a loud battle cry, she leapt over the wall at a much higher point than Robin had jumped from, and landed nimbly, like a cat. Crouching low, she batted his sword away from him and pushed him back down the steps. Robin backed up against her, flourishing his sword, before battering away at another soldier. Will slid past them, using the stone banister as a slide, before landing in front of Swallow and engaging in a furious battle with two guards at once. Once the others had caught up with them, Robin knocked away the last guard and grabbed a hold of the Sheriff, putting his sword to the snivelling old man's throat. Swallow twitched in shock, and, placing her hand on his arm, murmured, "Robin, what are you doing?" in a warning tone. He shook her off and turned, addressing the remaining conscious guards "Get back! No one needs die today." The guards milled around anxiously, unsure.

Their momentary pause seemed to give him more heart and he continued, an air of arrogance coating his voice and a cheeky grin directed towards the others "I think you know how this goes…" he half chuckled, glancing from side to side at the guards, still dithering about uselessly, "How much did you have to pay him?" He demanded as the outlaws made their way towards the castle gates. The sheriff sighed, clearly used to being treated that way and replied almost conversationally, "Well, you know, surprisingly little… Did you really think he was a Tax Inspector?" he jeered, laughing mirthlessly at the much younger man. "Was it enough to sacrifice his boy's life?" The Sheriff began to struggle slightly, obviously tiring of Robin's plans. "You can kill 'im if you like, noone'll miss him, least of all me!" He began struggling more, as the group of outlaws began to near the gate and he realised they would get away. "You are revolting," muttered Much in disgust.

The Sheriff looked about to snap; Gisbourne conveniently interrupted the group with, "You can forget the others, Hood, just me and you." Robin laughed mirthlessly, and shook his head at the man. "Sorry Gisbourne, but trial by combat ain't big and it ain't clever!" Gisbourne shook his head in mock disgust, his lip curling up into a slight sneer "And neither is robbing defenceless pilgrims-" Robin looked from Swallow to Allan, to Much and back at Will, confusion clouding his face "What pilgrims?" The outlaws shrugged in confusion, understanding even less than their leader. Gisbourne continued gloating, "Women in Holy Orders!" Robin growled in answer, the rest of the group melding closer together as the guards returning with Gisbourne made as if to engage with them. "Step aside! Now!" demanded Robin as they walked under the portcullis. With a reluctant expression, Gisbourne made the signal for his guards to move, jerking his arm towards the castle with an expression of loathing directed at Robin. "Anyone know anything about these Pilgrims?" She asked casually as she waved her sword threateningly at one guard who had gotten too close. "I haven't touched no Pilgrims!" protested Allan, Swallow sniggered slightly before replying in a jesting tone "You know Allan, I _really _wouldn't have put it past you!" Robin cut off Allan's shout of protest, with "Taxmen who aren't taxmen; Pilgrims nobody has ever heard of; I think we've both been had!" The portcullis snapped shut and the band of outlaws ran off towards the horses, leaving behind the Sheriff screaming furiously at his guards.

Some distance away from the place they had left John guarding the boy, they halted amongst the trees. Robin quickly attracting the older man's attention with the gangs agreed signal, a whistle imitating birdsong, which Swallow had not yet mastered fully. John struggled to his feet and wandered over to them.

"We've been tricked." Will said

"How?" John muttered gruffly, gripping his staff tightly between his huge hands.

"He's not really a taxman," shrugged Allan, leaning nonchalantly against a thick tree trunk.

"Shh!" Robin hissed, looking back at the group and pressing a finger to his lips.

Will continued in an urgent whisper, "It's not just us though, the Sheriff's been tricked too!"

"Yeah…" Allan agreed, before trailing off slightly and asking "Wait, how do we know that again?"

Swallow and Robin glanced at him at spoke at the same time "The inch of truth!"

Much wrinkled his nose in confusion, "What?" Robin sighed, before gesturing at Swallow to explain as he turned his back to the men and continued watching the still tied up boy.

"The money." She said, addressing each of the men in turn "The bit about the tax money was true."

"So?"

"So, anyone as sneaky as that tax inspector wouldn't just settle for a few coppers, not when he could take every single gold coin in the north of the country."

This time Allan spoke uncomprehendingly, "So?"

Robin took over "So, you-" He pointed at John "Go back, untie him-" he jerked over his shoulder at the lone lad "And with any luck, he'll run all the way back to his little friends-"

"Leading us to them in the process," She grinned, finally cottoning on to his plan.

Robin nodded in agreement, smiling slightly at her enthusiasm, before Much interrupted, a slight frown gracing his face. "There's no need," he said "Look-"

The boy, Cedric, was straining against his bonds, grunting and groaning as he popped his shoulder out of joint. The others clustered around them, Allan pressing up behind Swallow as he leaned in to get a closer look, "Cheeky beggar-" he chuckled appreciatively as they all watched the boy escape. Their faces all matched the same expression, a mixture of disgust and curiosity; not one of them could look away.

Much spoke wonderingly "That is weird… It's like a circus act!" He claimed finally, before adding "That is disgusting."

"Three groups." Robin said, seriously "Switch pursuit. Silent running. Go."


	15. Chapter 15

**Morning's First Light**

_You're the voice_

_Try and understand it_

_Make a noise and make it clear!_

_We're not gonna sit in silence_

_We're not gonna live with fear!_

John Farnham – You're the Voice

Swallow could barely disguise the rush of adrenaline she felt whilst running pell-mell through the trees, Allan at her side. There were times, when she slipped on wet leaves or tripped over hidden rocks upon the forest floor that she had to bite back the shout of joy and the whoop of laughter which bubbled up from her gut, and instead had to content herself with running along with a bright smile stretched from ear to ear. She had been so worried about her future in the past few days that she had almost forgotten how much fun life could be. It was almost ironic how that constant fear for her life had evolved into something much more than that; a feeling of being truly alive for once. In the few days that she had known Robin and his friends, she had probably enjoyed herself more than the past few years combined.

Cedric was slowly pulling ahead of them, and for a moment it looked like he might make a clean get away, until Swallow noticed Robin and Much crouched inconspicuously behind a couple of thick-trunked beech trees. Allan clutched at her arm, and she ducked behind a nearby tree as well, allowing her heavy breathing to die down slightly, as their ears strained to pick up the sound of rumbling wheels as the cart picked its way along the forest track – the first one she had ever walked along, she realised with a short grin of amusement. It had really come full circle, hadn't it?

Cedric hailed the cart with a wave, and approached slowly while it groaned to a halt; the horse was clearly eager to be away and exuded a sort of nervous energy which could be picked up from even their hiding spot amongst the trees.

"Welcome back, lad!"

"Please tell me we are in business?"

"No…" The woman replied, her voice laced with the smug tone, which could only accompany that of a well-versed crook. "Not unless we want to be. We'll never have to be in business again." She added with an air of finality, as Flaxton patted the bench of the cart, indicating for the young lad to join them.

"Hurry up boy, come and sit next to your retirement!"

Robin swaggered across to them, as three arrows let fly and thudded resolutely into the wood behind them. The woman shrieked and ducked for cover as Robin spoke up, "Sorry, but there'll be no retiring today!"

"Is this him?" The woman asked, her voice trembling slightly, but otherwise, giving away no other evidence that she was worried by his appearance.

Flaxton, on the other hand, was outraged. "You should be dead!" He exclaimed, shocked further when Little John and Will ducked out from the trees behind them and revealed that not one member of the outlaws had been caught by the Sheriff. If this dismayed him, he did not show it.

"Oh many times over," Robin replied, eyebrows knitted together in a tight frown. He sounded flippant about it; nothing about his expression demonstrated the seething anger he so obviously felt, but at the same time Swallow knew that there was something more about that frown; it wasn't just for the sake of scaring the truth out of Flaxton – the outlaw was clearly fraught with the tension brought by their very slim escape.

"How did you escape?" Flaxton was astonished.

"Oh, with a bit of a wriggle." Robin added, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "And a pop of the shoulders." He pushed Cedric away, ignoring Flaxton as he berated the boy for not checking he was alone.

"Listen, we've not taken from you. We were never after you." The woman recovered herself, and tried to bargain her way out of danger.

"No! We were just the bait!" Allan remarked, indignantly. Swallow snorted with sarcasm; Allan did have a point, but he was just as likely to have tried the same thing in the past. He caught her laugh and glanced up at her briefly, grinning slightly in return.

The boy, Cedric, chuckled mirthlessly. "Get over it." He remarked coldly.

Without a seconds warning, Will backhanded him mercilessly.

"You get over it. You might as well have been tax collectors, you do exactly the same thing."

Swallow whistled slowly in appreciation. Will's scathing remark coupled with the force of his slap had sent the boy reeling. She was amazed.

The woman tried valiantly to win back the argument, saying, "You can talk. You live on the wrong side of the law, just like us."

"That is because the law itself has become criminal." Robin countered calmly. "England is rotting from the top down."

"Then why stay?" The others had seemed to have missed the sudden switch the woman had made. Her voice had switched from a calm, lilting tone, to one sultrier and almost seductive. Robin leaned forward, almost as if to consider the woman's question, and Swallow suddenly found herself wondering whether he even knew what he was doing.

"We are going to Holland to set ourselves up as nobles."

Little John caught her eye, suspicion flaring almost instantaneously. It seemed he had caught on to the woman's plans as well. He shrugged at her, in answer to her questioning glance. It seemed there was nothing they could do.

"Why not join us? We would make a wonderful combination." Robin's eyebrows quirked slightly in amusement. Apparently he had also caught on to her plan, finally.

"There are many more fools like the Sheriff of Nottingham in this world and it is our duty to cheat them."

"They're greedy." Flaxton chipped in. "That's why they're so easy to trick." He smiled smugly, believing that they had caught Robin with their trap of lies. Swallow privately wondered if they were half right; their proposition was tempting.

"Join us. With our strategies and your remarkable talent-" She leant forward and approached Robin, getting closer and closer. Swallow knew where this was going; she would obviously try and seduce him into changing sides.

"Oh god," she muttered out loud, mortified that Robin would go to such lengths to have the last laugh. As they kissed, the looks shared between Much and Will were that of alarm – was Robin seriously considering their proposal? Then Much's eyebrows quirked, not dissimilar to the way Robin's did; Swallow realised that Much's reaction was somewhat resigned compared to that of Will and Allan. Apparently this happened a lot.

She broke away slightly to whisper in his ear "It would be so different. Forget the others, just you and me."

Allan's mouth dropped open as they resumed kissing. "What's he doing?" He blurted out, looking absolutely clueless.

"Well, Allan. When a lord and a lady like each other very much-" Swallow muttered crudely, grinning as she was interrupted by the uncomfortable chuckles of the others.

"Now do you see what I have to put up with?" Much exclaimed as they broke away.

"What do you say?"

Robin paused for a second, before replying in the same conniving tone as the woman. "I say…" He paused again, turning to give a meaningful look at John. "Little John?"

John grinned and without further prompting grabbed Flaxton and shoved him backwards amid raucous laughter. Swallow jumped backwards, trying to avoid the splattering of pig muck as the two conmen landed in the back of the cart. Much was highly appreciative of their dismayed reactions.

"You are pigs! And you are in slops!" He rejoiced, amongst the laughter of the others.

Robin rummaged amongst the muck for a minute, before pulling out a leather pouch filled to the brim with gold coins. "You wouldn't have wanted to retire on this any way," He remarked, before adding with a cheeky wink "Dirty money." Swallow groaned at his awful pun, before rushing forward with the others, trying to grab as much of the money as possible.

* * *

"Not bad for a day's work," remarked Allan that afternoon, as he stretched out on the grassy bank. The others murmured their assent, before returning to dozing in the warm sunlight. Swallow sat making daisy chains as Robin and Much made their way discreetly into the village below and approached the man watching over a group of Longhorn cattle. They had spent the past few hours riding from village to village handing out the tax money to those who had animals, hopefully preventing that awful butcher in Nottingham from selling poisoned meat. By cutting out the middle man, meat would be delivered straight to the villages most in need whilst staying fresh and hopefully, illness would be eradicated.

They were meant to be providing back up for Robin and Much, but as Allan had pointed out, the villages were quiet enough for a late afternoon and they were just too tired to stand. So as soon as Robin had left to speak with the herdsmen, he had stretched himself out on the grass and drifted off to doze. Occasionally he spouted out the odd remark or two, but more often than not, Swallow was sat in a comfortable silence as the others slept the day away.

Oddly, making daisy chains was extremely therapeutic and she found herself daydreaming whilst she did so. Her crown of daisies slipped down across her face momentarily and she let out a small squeak of surprise before righting it. Allan groaned his annoyance at being disturbed, but she thumped his foot in reply.

"Shut up Allan, or I'll make you your very own daisy chain."

He murmured something in reply, but whether it was offensive or not, she could not tell. "And I will make you wear it." She continued, scathingly, chuckling as he moaned in response, rolling away down the hill part way in his desperate attempt to avoid her.

Robin and Much had evidently finished their talk with the men down in the village and had turned back to meet them. Swallow leapt to her feet and kicked Allan awake urgently. He looked up bleary eyed, about to make some sort of comment, which would almost certainly ensure his coronation until he realised that the others were already saddling up. Sighing despairingly, he followed.


End file.
